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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26326594">Operation: Sub-Zero</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Nihilist/pseuds/Miss_Nihilist'>Miss_Nihilist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Secret Saturdays</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Bonding, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, Cryptozoology, Dubious Morality, During Canon, Gen, Illegal Activities, Kidnapping, No Spoilers, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Uneasy Allies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:40:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,718</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26326594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Nihilist/pseuds/Miss_Nihilist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"The sooner I get what I want, the sooner you get what you want. You're going to get home eventually, but how fast that happens is entirely up to you." Doyle glanced over at him then and Zak faltered. "Deal?" He prompted, forceful.</p><p>Zak was thousands of miles from his home and his family and he felt lost and alone, but he smirked. Because maybe — just maybe — he could make this situation work in his favor. "Deal."</p><p>Or, <em>Van Rook’s apprentice has a job that he can’t do alone and he’s decided that Zak, with his powers, is the only one who can help him. Rather than asking (and facing a very protective and stubborn family), a kidnapping seems the fastest and most efficient way to secure that help.</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Doyle Blackwell &amp; Zak Saturday</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Phase One: Negotiations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanted to write a fic where Doyle and Zak bond before they know that they're related, so this was spawned. It's written to be canon-compliant, so let's just say this takes place sometime between episodes four and seven.</p><p>This (surprisingly long) chapter is mostly exposition, but there's more action coming up in the next one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Zak opened his eyes, he immediately shut them again, muffling a groan. He already had a headache forming, but his eyes were so sensitive at the moment that the light felt like something was stabbing him just behind his sockets. He tried to go back to sleep, but the sensation of being weightless, untethered from his body, had begun fading as soon as consciousness dragged him to the waking world. Zak wished that he wasn't so <em>aware </em>of everything, though. His mouth was dry, his stomach was churning, and it felt like every muscle in his body was braced for impact. He couldn't seem to make his body relax.</p><p>Something clinked next to his ear and Zak groaned again. Did everything have to be so <em>loud</em>? He could hear a jet engine rumbling beneath the floor and, even though he traveled so often that the white noise was comforting, it was grating on his overly sensitive ears.</p><p>There were footsteps and someone knelt at Zak's side, making a soft shushing sound. He reached up, grasping blindly for his dad, and instead, a hand cupped the back of his head, cradling him as a glass of water was lifted to his lips. It summoned memories of being bedridden when he was younger and having mom fret over every decimal of his temperature. Was he sick again? Zak didn't remember developing a sickness. In fact, he didn't even remember going to sleep.</p><p>The cup of water was lifted away before he could finish it and Zak mumbled something that was supposed to be a complaint, words slurring together as the sleep still clinging to his brain made it impossible to enunciate. There was a chuckle that Zak <em>definitely </em>didn't recognize and he felt a faint trickle of concern.</p><p>"You ready to rejoin the land of the living, mini-man?" A man's voice — very much <em>not </em>his dad's — asked.</p><p>Through the discomfort and confusion and lingering exhaustion, Zak managed to force his eyes open again, squinting at the man who was holding him up. He was greeted by fiery red hair and green eyes and thin lips pulled into a faintly-amused smirk. None of it was even remotely familiar to Zak.</p><p>He started to say something, but it came out as more of a wheeze with how dry his throat was. Zak collected himself, trying to pull his thoughts together into something cohesive, and said, "What is… Who're you?"</p><p>The man arched an eyebrow. "Finish your water first, then we'll have our Q&amp;A session," he replied.</p><p>There was something familiar about his voice that time, but Zak was still struggling to wake up and remain alert, so he nodded. The water was handed to him and the man helped him sit up properly, propping Zak's back against the wall. He glanced around as he sipped on the water. The bed he was sitting on was attached to the wall of a small bedroom, cramped and with barely enough room for a little side table. It had a door for privacy, but Zak had spent enough time flying to know that it was only a formality. The door would be paper-thin and unable to lock. Clearly, they were on an airship. That eliminated the faint hope that the red-headed man was a doctor out of uniform.</p><p>He gulped down the rest of the water and handed the glass back to the man, who took it and set it down. There was a plate of food on the table; what looked to Zak like some crackers, cheese, grapes, and sliced salami. He eyed it, trying to decide if he was hungry or not, before deciding that he had more important things to figure out first. Waking up somewhere he either didn't recognize or where his parents weren't was usually <em>not </em>a good thing. At least Zak wasn't tied up.</p><p>"Ask whatever you want," the man said when he realized Zak was still processing. "All the whos, whats, wheres, whens, whys… I've got nothing to hide."</p><p>Looking away, Zak considered it for a moment. "Have I been kidnapped?" He asked.</p><p>The man seemed surprised by his bluntness but laughed. "Well, as much as I'd like to say <em>no</em>… Yeah, this is a kidnapping."</p><p>Zak scowled. He reached for the Claw at his belt, only to realize that it wasn't there. And he didn't even have a belt — he was in his pajamas. Figured. "You're being pretty agreeable for some dude who kidnapped me. When my parents realize what happened, they'll—"</p><p>"They'll do what?" A roll of the eyes, distinctly unimpressed. "They have no idea where we are. Your parents will be fine, I'm not going to kill you or sell you for parts or anything. Depending on how much you want to cooperate, you'll be home for bedtime tonight."</p><p>It was getting easier to think the longer that Zak was awake. He swung himself around so that his legs were dangling off the side of the bed, just so that he felt like he could run. He knew that there was nowhere to go, and he hadn't been hurt yet, so Zak figured that biding his time until he had an opening or access to some way to communicate with his parents was the smartest choice. First things first, it would help to know where he was.</p><p>"Speaking of those things…" Zak said with faux casualness, "what are the answers, exactly? I mean, where are we and who are you?"</p><p>He was racking his mind for a name to go with the face in front of him and kept coming up blank. But the man spoke to Zak with some degree of familiarity. Aside from that, all Zak could tell from his surroundings was that he was on a plane. That didn't narrow down what direction his house was in.</p><p>"You want a name?" The man crossed his arms, still amused, although Zak was having trouble finding anything about the situation funny. "You can call me Doyle. Come to think of it, I don't think I got your name the last time we met, either." He paused. "You might remember some big wolves in the ice caverns of Ellef Ringnes."</p><p>The confusion and tiredness were enough that it took Zak a long moment to process what he was being told. When it finally sunk in, his eyes widened. "I… <em>oh</em>. You're Van Rook's apprentice." It wasn't a question because Zak didn't need an answer.</p><p>He wasn't sure what to think. He had never been kidnapped before but the last time they met, Van Rook's apprentice — or, Doyle, apparently — had tried to help him and risked his life to help Zak put the awakened Amarok back to rest. Despite being a mercenary, Doyle didn't <em>seem </em>like a bad person, so the kidnapping angle combined with Doyle's relaxed attitude and the haze of waking up was making it really difficult for Zak to know how to feel. A part of him was sort of <em>excited</em>, but he had no doubt that going on an adventure of some kind with Doyle would be a lot cooler if he hadn't been kidnapped and forced into it.</p><p>"Glad I made a good first impression," Doyle said, startling Zak from his thoughts.</p><p>He frowned and wished that he had his Claw. Landing a few hits would no doubt make dad proud when Zak's parents eventually showed up. Because of course they would. They always did.</p><p>"Being memorable isn't always a good thing," Zak retorted.</p><p>Doyle shrugged. "Don't strain yourself with the snappy one-liners, kid. You're probably going to be a bit slow on your feet for a while." He held his arm up, tapping his forearm. "Check it out. I bandaged you up before you woke up, but I figured you should probably know so you don't confuse yourself further."</p><p>The word "bandaged" should have been Zak's first clue that he didn't want to know, but he rolled up his sleeve anyway. There was a band-aid pressed just below the crook of his elbow, white with colorful dinosaurs printed on it. He rolled his eyes, but pressed down on the area, surprised by how tender it was. Zak couldn't help but wince.</p><p>"Yeah, maybe don't do that," Doyle said. "Intramuscular injections can leave you pretty sore. It'll definitely bruise"</p><p>It took Zak longer than he wanted to admit to muddle his way through that statement and all of its implications. "Wait." He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Motion only made his headache worse, so he quickly stopped. "You're saying that you <em>drugged </em>me? Why?" He felt rising panic in his chest and quickly tapped it down. Doyle wouldn't use anything harmful, right?</p><p>"Hey, don't start freaking out. Ketamine excites the heart and I don't need you giving yourself a heart attack. Which is a real concern, I'm not making that up," Doyle said with a frown. If he was worried, then he was really good at not showing it. "An intramuscular injection of about one hundred twenty milligrams of ketamine will keep an adult unconscious for thirty minutes. You're a kid, so half that amount. It made it really easy to grab you since it kicks in after give or take thirty seconds. But you probably don't remember that part."</p><p>Hearing the details of his kidnapping was somehow worse than waking up to being kidnapped. Zak wished that he knew what ketamine was. He also decided not to linger on the implication that Doyle had injected him with some drug that was probably illegal. He switched the topic so that he didn't have to keep thinking about it.</p><p>"What the—? Then why am I even here? And you never told me where we actually are," Zak accused. There were no windows in the small bedroom and he wished that there were.</p><p>Rather than answer, Doyle grabbed the plate of food on the side table and pressed it into Zak's hands. "Once the side effects wear off and the nausea fades, you're going to be pretty hungry. If you want to know where we are so bad, you can come to the front. We're almost ready to land."</p><p>Automatically, he took the plate, and Zak stayed where he was as Doyle left the room. He headed to the right, presumably toward the cockpit, leaving the door open behind him. Doyle probably assumed that Zak wouldn't be long and he was right. He still needed to find and recover his Claw. But, first…</p><p>Honestly, he <em>was</em> hungry. Doyle said that the injection would keep him unconscious for thirty minutes, but Zak felt like it had been a lot longer than that. His whole body was sore and he felt unusually sluggish. He got the feeling that he had missed breakfast. And probably lunch.</p><p>Plus, if he had any hope of getting home, Zak did need to leave the room at some point.</p><p>So Zak shoved some of what was on the plate into his mouth and immediately choked in his haste. He chewed more slowly, swallowed, and downed what was left of the glass of water that Doyle had. He considered that good enough, even though he was still hungry, and left the dishes on the platform that was attached to the wall near the bed. It folded back, like the trays on airplane seats, though looked to be locked in place.</p><p>A cursory glance of the cabin showed that there were no hatches for Zak's Claw. Well, there was a compartment above the bed, but it took Zak about three seconds to open it and realize that there was nothing in it. He didn't want to face Doyle on his home turf without a weapon, though it seemed he had no other option.</p><p>He stepped out of the bed and, looking down at himself, grimaced at his pajamas. Zak was both surprised and annoyed. His pajamas were <em>fine</em>, they were just a pale orange set of matching pants and a long-sleeve shirt. At least they weren't covered in duckies or race cars or something.</p><p>But it did reinforce Doyle's claims, that he had somehow managed to not only break into the Saturday's home, but grab Zak without Fisk or Komodo noticing. Fisk always seemed to linger around Zak's room during his nighttime prowls and Komodo slept at the foot of Zak's bed every night, so <em>how </em>had Doyle managed that? Their security system alone should have picked up that he was there immediately and alerted them.</p><p>Not that he would ever admit it, but Zak was privately impressed. Doyle was <em>good</em>. Although, it would have been a lot more impressive if his arm wasn't still aching from those coma-inducing injections.</p><p>Zak stepped out of the room, barefoot, and headed the way that Doyle had gone, to the right. It wasn't a big plane, certainly not anywhere near as big as the airship. The hall was made of dark steel and cramped, but it was unmarked and without decoration. It could have been stolen and Doyle could have built the thing himself. There were no features to betray its origins.</p><p>The hall led into a small cockpit, where Doyle was seated in the pilot's chair. The co-pilot's chair was empty and Zak got the feeling that there was no one else on the plane. He hesitated, then wordlessly climbed into the co-pilot chair and got comfortable.</p><p>"Touch anything and I'm not above leaving you unconscious until we land," Doyle warned without looking at Zak.</p><p>He huffed, crossing his arms, and still mumbled, "Fine, whatever." Zak's desire to cooperate was dropping by the second, but as long as they were in the air, he didn't want to crash and die any more than Doyle did.</p><p>He looked out the window, watching the scenery unravel far beneath them. It was sort of hard to get a good look through the low-hanging cloud layer, so it took Zak a moment, but then he stiffened. A noise of alarm (that was absolutely not a squeak) left his mouth as he realized that there was <em>snow </em>on the ground. And a lot of it, too. Everything was dusted in white.</p><p>Doyle — absolutely knowing what the problem was and no doubt finding it hilarious — couldn't help the twitch of his lips into a barely-suppressed smile. "Something wrong?"</p><p>If Zak hadn't still been freaking out, he would have been glaring. As it was, his eyes were stuck comically wide and his mouth didn't seem to want to close. "It's— it's the middle of <em>April</em>! It doesn't snow in April!"</p><p>There was a hum from Doyle as if he was considering that eloquently-put nugget of information, then he shrugged. "Maybe not near your house, but in Canada, it snows year-round in some places."</p><p>"<em>Canada? </em>You have to be joking!" Zak felt like he was going to pass out again. His parents were going to be <em>so </em>worried. "You said that the drug you gave me only keeps you unconscious for thirty minutes!"</p><p>Sparing the few seconds it took to look away from the instruments, Doyle gave Zak his most unimpressed look. "Uh, yeah. So I gave you regular injections at thirty-minute intervals. I did the last one forty-five minutes ago and I only stopped because we're coming up on our stop." Doyle paused. "It's an abandoned harbor in Nunavut, one of Canada's provinces" he added, helpfully, as if Zak knew anything about Canada or its provinces.</p><p>"Okay, wait." Zak shook his head and ignored the uncomfortable rush it gave him. "Then how long was I out?" He had a sinking feeling in his gut.</p><p>Doyle shrugged, unbothered. "I don't know, give or take twelve hours."</p><p>Maybe Zak should stop asking questions. The answers were only succeeding in making the situation worse.</p><p>He sputtered, unable to articulate why this was a problem in the face of Doyle's apathy. "You were giving me drugs for <em>twelve hours straight</em>?"</p><p>For some reason, Doyle had the audacity to look offended. "Hey, give me some credit," he said defensively. "I've done it plenty of times before. I wasn't going to let you fucking overdose on <em>ketamine</em>."</p><p>Zak scrunched up his face unhappily. "Mom doesn't like cursing."</p><p>That made Doyle laugh — maybe from the ridiculousness that Zak had gone from complaining about being drugged to complaining about swear words. "I don't actually care what your mom fucking thinks." He glanced at Zak and, seeing the look on his face, sighed and rolled his eyes. "Look, forget the cursing. I'm guessing you want to know why you're here."</p><p>Actually, yes, Zak was <em>very </em>interested in knowing the answer to that. The more he talked to Doyle, the less sense everything made. Zak was pretty sure that, if Doyle was going to hurt him, he would have woken up in ropes or handcuffs instead of on a bed with water and food.</p><p>And, besides, after what happened the last time they ran into each other, Zak had started to trust Doyle. It was even easier to believe him with his face and his name in the open.</p><p>"Do you need help with something?" Zak guessed. That was the only option that made sense, since Doyle obviously didn't want to hurt him. Still, the idea seemed a little ridiculous considering that Doyle was a full-grown man who could best Zak's dad in a fight — especially when, in Zak's mind, his dad was immovable and unbeatable. Unless you were Drew Saturday, of course. "I mean, I'm guessing that if you wanted to do something to me, you would have by now. If I've been unconscious for twelve hours." That still didn't sit right with him. "And you didn't want me to get hurt back in Ellef Ringnes, so…?"</p><p>Doyle chuckled, though it was too dry to come across as anything but mocking. "Smart kid," he said, tone equal bets between fondness and sarcasm. "Yeah, I need your help with something. See, I've had this project that I've been taking cracks at in my downtime, and I've run into a bit of a... <em>problem</em>. After seeing what you did to those wolf-monsters back in Ellef Ringnes, I figured that you were uniquely qualified to help me with this."</p><p>It took Zak a moment, then his eyes widened. "You're having problems with a cryptid?"</p><p>There was a quick shake of the head and Doyle clicked his tongue, somehow both amused and disappointed. "More like the cryptid is having a problem with <em>me</em>. See, here's the thing." He flicked a few switches, presumably turning on the auto-pilot, and turned to face Zak fully. There was genuine frustration on his face and it took Zak by surprise enough that he found himself actually paying attention. "A few months ago, Van Rook was contacted by this woman who wanted to hire him to retrieve some lost family heirlooms. Sounds simple enough, right? <em>Wrong</em>." Doyle punctuated this by jabbing Zak in the chest with a finger, cutting Zak off mid-nod. "See, the thing is, her family heirlooms have been lost for eleven-hundred years and she only discovered that they exist at all thanks to some ancient Viking records left by her ancestors. Apparently, they hid a bunch of treasure off of the coast of what today is Baffin Island, while they were pillaging and settling Greenland, I guess." The details were handwaved. Literally, with an uncaring flick of Doyle's wrist.</p><p>Zak blinked. "Okay. So… you kidnapped me to find some Viking treasure that might or might not actually exist? What does this have to do with cryptids?"</p><p>"Hey, no interrupting storytime." Doyle had an oddly intense look on his face. "Trust me, this treasure exists. I've seen it. Sort of. That's what I need you for." He paused, for the first time looking uncertain. "See, the thing is, the cave has been moved into since the Viking days. And the things that live there aren't too happy about me showing up on their doorstep and trying to steal a bunch of their shiny shit. <em>That's </em>where you come in." He put his hands back on the controls, checking over the instruments while he continued talking. "I know they're cryptids. They're creepy fucking things, too. They look human, but they're webbed and have these huge, pupilless black eyes and razor-sharp teeth. A dozen of them. Seems they like to hunt in a pack. They're not too bright, but…" Doyle shook his head. "They're ravenous. I think food is their only motivation. If I could get a t-bone or something down there, I would, but you know." He shrugged. "This seemed easier."</p><p>"Easier?" Zak didn't feel the need to point out that his home's security system was worth millions or that his dad had poured countless hours into making it as perfect as possible. "You could have just gotten my parents to come out here and relocate the cryptids. This is all just so—" He gestured helplessly. "Unnecessary."</p><p>"Unnecessary?" Doyle echoed, being purposefully mocking. "You don't know anything about this line of work, kid. Lesson one: never hedge your bets on people doing what you want. Even if I left an anonymous tip to your mommy and daddy about these cryptids, they aren't hurting any of the locals as far as I can tell, so who's to say they'd even be interested enough in relocation to look into it? I bet they have their own research and projects, so even if they did want to do something about it, I could potentially be waiting around for months. And I've already waited long enough." Doyle shook his head. "I went diving in Baffin Bay way back last summer. Thanks to the ice, the damn thing is basically impossible to navigate in the winter. It's just barely thawed enough for me to get away with it now and I'm lucky that temperatures have been running hot this year."</p><p>Zak huffed. At a loss for anything better to say, he settled on, "That just sounds like a long-winded version of saying that you don't rely on anyone."</p><p>The smile on Doyle's face was sharp. "Like I said. You don't know anything about this line of work."</p><p>There was something about the way Doyle said it that made Zak distinctly uncomfortable — even more so than he had been to discuss the fact that he'd been casually kidnapped. "Why are you even doing this job if Van Rook didn't think it was worthwhile?" He asked eventually, if only to change the subject to something safer.</p><p>"Exactly <em>because </em>Van Rook didn't think it was worth his time." Doyle visibly relaxed. Apparently, he was grateful for the change of subject too. "I'm his apprentice, not his bitch. I can't be stuck to his side. If I'm going to get anywhere on my own, I have to prove that I'm capable of doing jobs on my own and build up a portfolio. Even if those jobs are tedious or unpleasant." He made a face at an annoying memory that Zak couldn't even begin to guess at.</p><p>Again, Doyle had dug up a conversation thread that was making Zak uneasy. In an effort to change the subject, he said, "Well, you could have just asked my parents directly for our help. I would have come with them. Isn't that easier than breaking into our house?" Even as he finished saying it, though, Zak regretted it. He knew how ridiculous and childish it sounded.</p><p>Doyle actually burst out laughing. It was a good thing that his hands were off of the instruments and he had an auto-pilot engaged because otherwise, he might have sent them into a spiraling crash. "Oh, yeah, sure, I bet that conversation would go over <em>super </em>well. I'll just ask the people who's house I broke into and who I've fought to kill if I can borrow their eleven-year-old son for a day or two. I'm sure they'll be understanding and more than reasonable." He rolled his eyes. "C'mon, kid, you can't be <em>that </em>naïve."</p><p>"Stop calling me <em>'kid,'</em>" Zak snapped, unable to help himself. Something told him that he should be more polite to the guy who had kidnapped him, but Zak just couldn't see Doyle as a threat. "My name is Zak. Zak Saturday."</p><p>There was a look of surprise on Doyle's face and Zak realized that it was possible Doyle hadn't actually <em>known </em>that. He could have heard Zak's parents shout his name, back in Ellef Ringnes, but that wasn't a proper introduction. After a moment, Doyle replied with, "I know your last name. Van Rook has a file on your parents."</p><p>The <em>uncomfortable </em>twist in his gut returned. Zak didn't like thinking about Doyle's job description. But he asked, in a small voice, "Were you really trying to kill my parents?" It should have come out as a demand or a warning, but it didn't. Zak was thousands of miles from his home and his family and he felt lost and alone.</p><p>Doyle froze. He was looking in Zak's direction, but something in his eyes said that he wasn't really looking at <em>Zak</em>. Like he was somewhere else entirely. It was the same look that Doc had on his face when he first explained to Zak what happened in Weird World eleven years ago.</p><p>"...yes and no," Doyle allowed eventually, providing the truth even though it made Zak wince. He hurried to continue. "I mean, self-defense and all that, you know. But I don't <em>try </em>to kill people. And I've never done it maliciously. I don't hold grudges. This is just…" He shrugged. "It's just a job. It's nothing personal."</p><p>Zak wasn't sure if that was better or worse, but he nodded and let out the breath he had been holding. It was better to just not think about it. Doyle didn't want to hurt his mom and dad, and Zak's parents were great fighters. They could protect themselves. He didn't need to worry about them.</p><p>Speaking of worry, though… He frowned, more thoughtful than upset. "Mom and dad are going to be really worried. They've probably realized I'm missing by now." Were they going to be angry at him? Zak didn't think so. He wasn't one for sneaking out on his parents and it was so unlike him that kidnapping would probably be the only conclusion they could reach.</p><p>"I wouldn't lose sleep over it." Doyle shrugged, following Zak's lead and ignoring the tension gradually being built between them. "Your security system has a lot of holes and exploits, by the way. It took me, like, five minutes to white-list myself, and then the house just let me walk in. Kind of boring. I had to lure your guard-lizard out of your room and tranquilize it, though. I left the security cameras on so your parents could watch back and see what happened. Not that it helps them find you but, y'know." He gave a <em>what-can-you-do </em>gesture with his hands. "At least this way, they have the peace of mind. And, hey, if they're busy trying to track down Van Rook to get at me, then that just buys me more time." He grinned, hands returning to the instruments. Zak was familiar enough with flying to tell instinctively that they were about to start landing. "But this shouldn't take more than a day or two, then I'll drop you off and it'll be like nothing even happened."</p><p>The mention of getting to go home made Zak perk up. He hadn't been too worried about that part, strangely enough. Doyle only had so many options and he didn't seem the type to just leave Zak or… do something worse and more permanent that Zak didn't want to think about. "A day or two? That seems like a long time." And considering that Zak hadn't wanted to be there at all, he felt justified in being angry over it.</p><p>"Well, then it's a good thing that this isn't a democracy and I'm not taking votes," Doyle replied. The plane began to tip downward ever-so-slightly, and Zak quickly found the safety belt attached to his seat and strapped it on. Doyle wasn't wearing his, but safety first. "The sooner I get what I want, the sooner you get what you want. I don't want to hurt you, but I can and I will. So you're going to help me, one way or the other. You're going to get home eventually, but how fast that happens and how hurt you are by the end of it is entirely up to you."</p><p>With Doyle's gaze resolutely focused on what he was doing, Zak couldn't see his face. He couldn't tell how much of what Doyle said was a bluff, but dread worked its way into his gut anyway. Zak responded with a stubborn glare of his own and was privately glad that Doyle wasn't looking because he didn't think that his attitude would hold up to scrutiny. Not without his family backing him up, a cryptid nearby that he could use to defend himself, or even the Claw at his side in case a fight broke out.</p><p>Doyle glanced over at him then and Zak faltered. "Deal?" He prompted, forceful. As if, even though Doyle held all the power in this situation, he still didn't know what Zak was going to say or how to handle it if Zak's answer was no.</p><p>Suddenly, Zak was extremely doubtful of Doyle's ability to hurt him. Back in Ellef Ringnes, he had tried to save Zak and Fisk from the Amarok, twice. He had stood back and watched when Van Rook tried to bury them alive, but Doyle hadn't participated in that and Zak had a hard time believing that the idea made him very happy. Even if they were supposed to be enemies. Even if Doyle wasn't supposed to care about <em>anyone</em>.</p><p>But, still, Zak didn't want to push his luck. He almost told Doyle that his powers weren't very powerful or reliable. Ellef Ringnes had been an exception only because it was surrounded by mystic energy and Zak still would have died if Doyle hadn't been there to help him. The cryptids that Doyle had described were numerous and hungry. It wasn't going to be easy. Maybe it wouldn't even be possible for Zak to control them.</p><p>Possibilities swirled in Zak's head and each of them was worse than the last. If he told Doyle that he wasn't powerful enough, there was no saying that Doyle would believe him. He might hurt Zak to make him <em>try harder</em>, as if it was that easy. The more likely option was that Doyle would either continue or he would turn around and take Zak home because he was useless. And going home should have been the goal, but the idea of the <em>disappointment </em>and <em>frustration </em>on Doyle's face made Zak's stomach turn. He only very rarely saw those emotions on his parents' faces, even rarer for it to be directed at Zak. A stranger's opinion shouldn't have mattered, especially not one with no regard for others, but Zak thought of how well they had worked together on Ellef Ringnes and the urge to befriend Doyle grew strong enough to drown out his reason.</p><p>He could go home with an ally. He could disarm another threat to his family's safety. Doyle already sort of liked him, Zak could tell. If he helped, if he was cooperative, if he treated Doyle like a person, then maybe…</p><p>Maybe Zak could make this situation work in his favor.</p><p>So he smirked, even though he was still fighting back the anger and sadness in his chest. "If I help you, do I get a cut of the reward?" As if he had any need or any interest in something like money.</p><p>The question caught Doyle off guard and he let out a startled laugh. "Sure, why not?" It was layered thick in sarcasm, obviously ingenuine, but that didn't matter.</p><p>Zak's smile grew a little more candid when he said, "Deal."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Phase Two: Swim Lessons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I swear to God, half of the work on this fic has just been trying to understand how the fuck diving works well-enough that I don't sound like an idiot when I'm writing this. I hope you guys appreciate how much effort this took, and that experienced divers don't cringe, because I still feel like I barely know what I'm saying.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The landing could have gone smoother, but Doyle blamed that on the fact that he didn't have a runway. Devon Island at least had plenty of uninterrupted land for him to use, but it was rocky and icy and, altogether, it didn't make for the best landing he had ever had. Not the worst, though. The plane was still in one piece and nothing was even broken. That was pretty good, in Doyle's opinion.</p><p>Especially since he'd never been formally taught how to fly. Not that the kid needed to know that.</p><p>Speaking of the kid…</p><p>"Alright, time to suit up." Doyle reached over and unbuckled Zak's safety harness. When had he even put that on?</p><p>He gestured the kid from the co-pilot's chair as he stood, leading the way down the hall, past the room where Zak had been sleeping, and into the main body of the jet. It was more open there and had containment shelves built into the walls. There was a lot that they were going to need, though Doyle had already brought most of it ahead in advance.</p><p>"Are you going to give me my Claw back?" Zak pestered him. "Did you even bring it?"</p><p>Dimly, Doyle couldn't help but find the whole thing sort of amusing. Most kids would start crying when they realized they had been kidnapped. Zak took it all in stride, with a look on his face like <em>Doyle </em>was the one who was trapped, not the other way around. As off-putting as it was, Doyle couldn't say that he expected anything different from the kid who'd tried pleading with a mercenary to give up priceless artifacts in the name of <em>magic </em>and <em>spirits</em>. Zak was either very brave or very, very stupid.</p><p>Given his age, Doyle was betting that he was just stupid. At least it wasn't as annoying or confusing as dealing with a crying kid, though. Doyle wouldn't have even known where to start with that.</p><p>"I grabbed it off of your nightstand. Figured you'd want something to fight with. Jesus, kid, stop being so snappy." He waved the kid out of the way, shooing Zak to the side and stepping around him.</p><p>Doyle stopped in front of a narrow, metal closet and opened it. Inside, he had stacked the clothes he'd bought, still with the tags on. They were colorful and fluffy and had fun shapes on them. That, and the size of them, gave away that they were meant for a child.</p><p>Grabbing a thick, wool shirt that was powder-blue and covered in cartoon-ish cars, Doyle dropped it onto Zak's head. "Start getting your layers on. It's negative fourteen outside."</p><p>Zak bundled up the shirt in his arms, freeing his head, and looked up at Doyle with big eyes. "It's <em>that </em>cold outside?" He asked, shocked. As if they hadn't just flown twelve hours northeast during the beginnings of spring.</p><p>There was a sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue, but Doyle choked it back and thought for a moment. Then he understood. "Oh, right. It's negative fourteen <em>Celsius</em>." He rolled his eyes. "Sorry. Forgot for a moment that you were raised with the inferior measuring system."</p><p>Face scrunched up in annoyance, Zak stuck his tongue out. It was childish of him but, then, that was appropriate. "I don't remember any countries that use Celsius landing someone on the moon."</p><p>It was Doyle's turn to pull a face. He could name plenty of countries that had sent probes to the moon and back — the Soviet Union, Japan, and Israel, to name a few — but the kid had him there. The United States was the only country to put <em>manned </em>operations on the moon.</p><p>"Well, I was raised in Europe, and we're in Canada right now, so you're just going to have to suck it up." Reaching into the closet, Doyle grabbed a pair of socks with wolves on them and dropped those into Zak's arms, too. "Now shut up and get dressed. It's around five degrees <em>Fahrenheit </em>outside."</p><p>Zak glanced into the closet and pulled out a sweater with a giraffe on it, grimacing as though holding something foul. At least his snow boots weren't animal-themed. Not that Doyle hadn't tried, but quality came before practical jokes. "Do I have to?" Zak whined, complaining about being treated like a child while acting like a child.</p><p>There had been plenty of less-colorful clothes for Doyle to pick from when he went shopping… But this had been more fun. Definitely worth it. "Yep. Unless you want to end up freezing to death the second we step outside, put on all of it. Three or four layers are mandatory for this kind of weather." He started over to the closet where he had stashed his own layers, then added, "And don't rip the tags off. I'm returning those when we're done."</p><p>Behind him, he heard the distinct noise of plastic being snapped as Zak ripped off a tag. Little piece of shit.</p><p>But, again, he was being weirdly cooperative otherwise, so Doyle let it be. He said nothing, and there were the soft sounds of fabric shuffling as Zak dumped everything onto the floor and started by pulling on the thinner layers over his pajamas first. Doyle dressed with a little more tact than that, grabbing his coats and insulating pants and putting them on with practiced ease. He had spent enough years in unpleasant locations that layers were no longer difficult. Not that it made the bulk any easier to move around in.</p><p>When he was finished, Doyle turned around and saw Zak struggling to button snow pants into place. He tucked his gloves into his pocket and walked over, helping Zak clip the buttons into place. "Last thing," Doyle said, not even trying to hide his tease as he handed Zak a thick winter jacket.</p><p>The hood and the inside were lined with faux brown fur, soft and warm. It had a bear imprinted over the chest and the back said "<em>mama's little cub," </em>and it came with matching brown gloves that were stylized to look like paws.</p><p>Doyle thought it was fucking hilarious.</p><p>Evidently, Zak did not. He scowled, turning red, and yanked the coat out of Doyle's hands as angrily as he could while also putting it on. "How old do you think I am?" He demanded. It was hard to take him seriously when he still had baby fat in his face and a tuft of unruly white hair sticking out from beneath the brim of his hood.</p><p>It absolutely was not adorable. Not at all.</p><p>"I don't know, nine? Ten?" Doyle guessed with an uncaring shrug. He knew exactly how old Zak was. The file that Van Rook kept on his parents was very thorough.</p><p>(It was also impersonal and practical. Zak was only mentioned because he had been listed under "weaknesses and exploitables." Doyle told himself that he didn't have a problem with that. Not at all.)</p><p>"I'm eleven!" Zak insisted, the tips of his ears burning red. "And a half!"</p><p>Okay. Maybe it was a little adorable.</p><p>As fun as it was to tease the kid, Doyle wasn't going to waste his time. He could definitely use this to his advantage. Kids were idiots, he knew that first-hand. There had to be a bunch of information that he could get off of Zak. The kid's family was rich. They knew plenty about cryptids, so Doyle could learn, too, and then he wouldn't need to drag children into mercenary work.</p><p>It had stunned him, the first time that he saw it. Doyle had been struck motionless, stunned and awed until he'd seen that wolf-monster about to pounce and rip Zak's throat out. But there had been flames leaking from the kid's eyes and the atmosphere of the room was so heavy that he'd barely been able to breathe. He had never seen anything like it.</p><p>And this child had been born with that power. He had been told by his parents that he was supposed to save the world with it one day. Doyle couldn't wrap his head around it.</p><p>"Why did your "client" need to hire a mercenary for a fetch quest?" Zak grumbled. "Couldn't she pay someone to get it that's more… law-abiding?" He was being sarcastic, but the way he was shifting on his feet, arms wrapped around himself, betrayed his anxiety. The silence must have been making him uncomfortable.</p><p>Doyle felt stupid for doing that. He had meant to ask something about cryptids or maybe if the Saturday house had a vault somewhere, but he'd left Zak to fill the quiet instead. That was bad, because obviously Zak would want to ask questions, too. And if Doyle was going to keep hanging onto this tentative sliver of trust that Zak (for whatever reason) had given him, then Doyle was going to have to answer.</p><p>'<em>Never give away anything for free,' </em>Van Rook had lectured him with a smack to the back of the head. '<em>Not even information. </em>Especially <em>not information.'</em></p><p>"If that had been an option, I wouldn't be here," Doyle retorted. As a second thought, he opened a second storage compartment behind him and reached in, grabbing Zak's Claw. He hid it in the inside of his jacket, using his body as a shield as he turned.</p><p>Since they were suited up, Doyle moved toward the jet's door. There was a little panel next to it with a button that deployed a small staircase. It didn't go all the way to the ground, but it was better than dropping all the way down. Zak followed him without prompting, so Doyle continued talking. "Legally speaking, artifacts that are acquired here are the property of the Canadian government. Or maybe it belongs to the Inuits since this is all Inuit territory." He waved a hand dismissively. "Honestly, I didn't do that much research on the legal side of things before I got here. Doesn't really matter, does it?" The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. "Either way, I'm in the country illegally and I'm taking their shit illegally."</p><p>The door opened and a blast of frigid air burst into the jet. It wasn't very windy outside, which was a small blessing. Either way, Doyle had been right about needing to bundle up. The sky was overcast, the ground was packed with ice and snow, and it was so cold that his fingers were already tingling. Doyle remembered the gloves in his pocket and slipped them on before stepping outside of the jet.</p><p>"You didn't get your passport checked when you crossed the Canadian border?" Zak asked, scandalized. As if he had expected better from Doyle. "It was a twelve-hour flight! How did you refuel?"</p><p>Stepping outside, Doyle took the steps carefully, as narrow and steep as they were. He dropped the last meter-and-a-half to the ground, snow crunching beneath his boots. "Sure, I have plenty of fake passports, but why bother? The government doesn't need to know that I'm here. Actually, the fewer people know that I'm in the country, the better." He had enemies everywhere. "And there are plenty of places where you can refuel that won't ask for your information. As long as you have enough money, at least."</p><p>Zak stepped out of the jet behind him, dropping off of the last step without even glancing at the ground. Not bad. "I don't like this," he muttered, looking around. He scanned the beach as though expecting a police boat to come rising from the icy water and arrest them on the spot. "Mom and dad always get our passports checked when we land in a new country. And they let the government know before they leave somewhere, too."</p><p>Doyle resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but just barely. "Yeah, well, if they want to bend over and take it up the ass from bureaucracy, then good for them. But that's not how I conduct my business."</p><p>There was a funny look on Zak's face, eyebrows and nose scrunched up as he mouthed what Doyle had just said. Like he was trying to work out what he meant. Fuck, his parents really didn't curse around him, did they?</p><p>"Forget it. C'mon, our ride is over here." Doyle pointed to a boat that he had docked just off the coast about a quarter of a kilometer down the beach. He might have overshot it when landing the jet, but it was better to have too much distance than risk crashing it or leaving evidence that he had been there at all.</p><p>Zak squinted into the distance, trying to get a better assessment of the broken and ruined scattering of buildings near the boat, Doyle suspected. He started walking, taking long strides, and Zak had to jog to catch up. Once he did, Doyle slowed down. Just a little bit. He didn't want to stay in the cold for longer than he had to.</p><p>"So, where are we?" Zak held a hand up against the sun glaring against the snow. "Those buildings don't look like they're in good enough shape to be lived in."</p><p>"You pieced that together all on your own?" Doyle asked dryly. That got a glare from Zak, lacking in any heat or intimidation. But Doyle rolled his eyes and answered anyway. It wasn't like it mattered if he told Zak where they were — once they were done, Doyle was moving all of his stuff and he never used the same place twice. "This is Dundas Harbour. It's a ghost town now, but it used to be a government outpost. I don't think there's been anyone living here since the 1950s. Officers stop by here once a year but, other than that, it's completely abandoned. It makes for a perfect base of operations. It's also the site of one of the world's northernmost graveyards." Doyle gestured up toward the hills some ways away from the shore. "In that general direction, somewhere. Fun little trivia fact for you."</p><p>"Why was it abandoned?" Zak asked. As if it wasn't already obvious.</p><p>Doyle couldn't help a bit of an eye roll as he gestured around them. "Why do you think? Would <em>you </em>want to live here? It's remote from any civilization, there's not even any cell service. No plumbing, no heating, no internet, no running water, no electricity. The cold is so bad that half the year, it's impossible to get out of here by boat. I'm surprised anyone had their head far enough up their ass to think that it was a good idea to try settling here in the first place."</p><p>"<em>Having their head up their ass"</em> must have been another funny little phrase that Zak had never heard before, because he made a face, head tilting like he was trying to visualize what Doyle was talking about. Eventually, he must have decided that he didn't care, because Zak's next question was: "How many times have you gone diving here looking for this treasure?"</p><p>"Mm. I guess this would be my sixth time," Doyle said after a moment of thought. "I found the treasure the third time I went down. The other two were spent trying to figure out how to get around those cryptids. With, uh, limited success, clearly."</p><p>"I wish I had the CP with me," Zak muttered, kicking up some snow on purpose as he trudged forward. "It would be a lot easier to help you if I knew what cryptid this was. There are hundreds of cold-water cryptids and your description didn't narrow it down much, either." He crossed his arms, sulking.</p><p>Unconcerned, Doyle shrugged. "Does it matter? Your powers would work the same either way, right?" He told himself that it was a professional curiosity, not anything more. Argost had told them that he considered the Saturday boy a potential threat. He would pay plenty for more information on how those powers worked.</p><p>And, well, maybe Doyle was a <em>little </em>interested. It wasn't every day that the kid of the people you routinely tried to kill revealed that he had powers capable of controlling every spooky big-bad that went bump in the night.</p><p>Zak got a weird look on his face and stopped walking. He stared at his feet, lost in thought for a long moment. "I guess not…" He agreed carefully, unsure. "My powers work better on cryptids that are more instinctive than logical. But extreme anger or hunger are a lot more persuasive than I am."</p><p>Doyle managed a tight smile, thinking of the ravenous, empty-eyed monsters that had dug their claws into his drysuit and drawn deep gashes into his forearms. They had been so insatiable that, when he eventually kicked them off, they had torn at each other just to lick his blood out of the water.</p><p>He was knowingly dragging a child into that.</p><p>(But it was so, <em>so </em>easy to justify it to himself. It got easier to justify things with every passing month. Zak could deal with cryptids, he had been raised that way. He had the power to protect himself. If worse came to worse, he might end up with a few bruises or cuts, but so what? Those could heal. How would Doyle ever surpass Van Rook if he couldn't abide by the first rule the man had told him: the only thing more valuable than money was your own life. People were stepping stones and tools, a means to an end but nothing more. Even children. Especiallychildren.)</p><p>"Well," he said pleasantly through clenched teeth, "it's a shame that guns don't work nearly as well underwater."</p><p>The look that Zak shot at him was scathing. "We don't shoot cryptids," he said with a note of finality that an eleven-year-old boy shouldn't have been capable of.</p><p>Unimpressed, Doyle shrugged and turned, gesturing for Zak to resume following him. "Yeah, well, it's them or us, kid. If the cave structure wasn't so fragile, I would have just dropped some bombs in their nests and called it a day."</p><p>There was an affronted noise followed by the sound of hurried feet crunching through the snow. Doyle considered the fact that Zak was still following him a victory. "You can't punish animals for following their instincts," he continued to protest. "They don't know any better. They're just trying to live another day like we are."</p><p>"That's not an argument," Doyle said sharply, his expression drawing tight. Unconsciously, his pace quickened. "I'm trying to live another day, too. What, I'm supposed to prioritize some dumb animal over myself because it doesn't actively <em>want </em>me dead? Fuck that. In this world, it's every man for himself."</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zak fold his arms over his chest. "Maybe it wouldn't have to be if everyone wasn't so selfish," he muttered.</p><p>For some reason, that got under Doyle's skin. <em>Selfish</em>. That wasn't anything new to him. It was a trait that had kept him alive when food was scarce. It had been actively encouraged by Van Rook. The desire for <em>more </em>had pulled him out of poverty and abandonment and hopelessness. Doyle had fought for everything he had, tore it from screaming and bloody people whose faces became less and less defined as the body count piled higher.</p><p>And now he was being lectured on morality and the human experience by a <em>child</em>.</p><p>Doyle stopped walking. He whirled on Zak and felt a shout die in his throat. A child. Just like he had been. He looked down at Zak's sad, downcast eyes and let his frustration out as a sigh. "Does it matter?" He asked, almost weary. "Look, I know cartoons and Disney movies like to push the whole, "nature good, people bad" thing, but nature is just as cutthroat and bloodthirsty as anything people could do to each other. Those things we're going to face might not want money or power, but they do want you dead. Their goals don't matter. You'd still die and there's no way to undo that." He shook his head. "Save the philosophy for people who have been alive a little longer than you, alright? Let's get going. We'll never get to the boat before sundown at this rate."</p><p>For a reason that Doyle didn't want to push his luck by questioning, Zak stayed quiet the rest of the walk to their destination. It was about ten minutes of uninterrupted silence, which was nice. It definitely helped keep down the headache that Doyle had felt building before. The walk itself would have been easier if the ground hadn't been covered in snow, but at least it hadn't been very windy. Otherwise, Doyle would have been cursing by the time they got to the boat.</p><p>As it was, he stood at the edge of the icy water and just sort of sighed. "We'll have to wade out to the boat," he explained to Zak. "Not very far, though. And your shoes should be waterproof, just don't test them by standing in the middle of freezing water. You can still get frostbite like that."</p><p>"I know that," Zak muttered, as if it was a surprise at this point for Doyle to be treating him like a child who didn't know any better.</p><p>The fishing boat was anchored about ten meters off-shore, the name <em>B-Mar </em>proudly inked in bold, black font along the hull just beneath the bow. Doyle approached the ladder on the stern, pulling himself up. He held out a hand for Zak to take if he needed it, but the kid stubbornly refused to so much as acknowledge the gesture and hefted himself up onto the deck with a grunt.</p><p>"Make yourself at home," Doyle said with a gesture around. "The cabin will have heating once I get the boat running, but don't expect a miracle. It's mostly there to protect you from wind shear." He walked around the cabin and moved towards the bow, grabbing the chain with the anchor attached to it and gradually working on pulling it up. It had an impressive length but, unfortunately, it was still manual.</p><p>Instead of going to the cabin, Zak had followed him. He hovered behind Doyle for a moment before saying sarcastically, "Let me guess... did you steal this boat, too? Like how you stole that jet?"</p><p>Doyle let out a burst of mocking laughter. "I know. A <em>mercenary </em>doing <em>illegal </em>things… Oh, the humanity. When will the madness end?"</p><p>Zak bristled. "I'll— I'll report you for it," he shot back, sounding more like a question than a threat. "You can't keep doing things like this, as if it doesn't matter."</p><p>The anchor was hefted over the side of the boat's railing and Doyle made sure that the chain was wrapped around the crank tightly before turning to Zak. Despite himself, he couldn't keep the smile off of his face. "Alright. I stole this boat from Beauchene Fishing Company Limited. They're a Falkland Islands company based in the capital, Stanley. I'll even go online and dig up the director's phone number for you if you want." He ruffled Zak's head, earning himself a smack on the back of the hand as Zak huffed and moved away. When he continued to glare, Doyle shrugged. "Even if I hadn't entered Canada illegally, they have a bounty on my head worth millions. Stealing a fishing boat is just another drop in the bucket. It means almost less than nothing." He gestured toward the railing. "Now, either hang onto something or take a seat in the cabin. I'm going to get this thing running and I don't need you falling in."</p><p>Although it still seemed like he wanted to complain, Zak must have been smart enough to realize that that conversation wasn't going to go anywhere, because he dropped the subject of "illegal activities" and trailed behind Doyle into the cabin.</p><p>While he took a seat at one of the few uncomfortable chairs scattered around, Doyle stood up behind the wheel and turned the keys. Normally, he didn't leave them with the boat but, the way that he saw it, who the fuck was going to be out there to steal it, anyway?</p><p>"Alright. Hands and feet inside the vehicle. Rules for being at sea include, but are not limited to: don't scratch the hull, don't put <em>anything </em>in your mouth, and don't trust anything that moves. Might want to get off of your anxiety medication, because a little paranoia out here could save your life." Doyle didn't wait for Zak to process and respond to his word vomit. He pushed forward gingerly on the throttle and the boat jolted as they pulled forward.</p><p>After that, the ride smoothed out, other than the turns that Doyle had to make in order to avoid crashing into ice. This time of the year, the Baffin Sea was still closed because the ice shelf was too thick in most places for large boats to maneuver. Luckily, Doyle had swiped a small fishing boat and he didn't care about the technicalities of safety laws.</p><p>Well, maybe he cared a little bit, reminding himself to go a little slower than he usually did. But only because he didn't want to have to be the one to tell Zak's parents that their son was… not around anymore.</p><p>The thought made Doyle's mouth twist into an unhappy little grimace. The sea in front of him was mostly clear, so he tore his eyes away to shoot a glance over his shoulder at the pouting kid he'd dragged onto his boat. Zak had slumped down in his seat, arms folded unhappily over his chest. He was trying to make a show of glaring at nothing but kept forgetting that he was supposed to be angry and letting himself get distracted by the view outside.</p><p>It really wasn't endearing at all.</p><p>For no reason other than to break the silence, Doyle took his hands off of the controls and knelt down, reaching into one of the little compartments under the dashboard. The boat had a plug-in, though there was only one and the damn thing didn't even have a toilet.</p><p>"Do you like hot cocoa?" Doyle asked as he pulled out a bottle-warmer. He had bottled water stocked in one of the other cabinets and enough cocoa powder to choke on. It just seemed more effective to have a bottle warmer than a blanket heater, since drinking it would put the warmth inside of him much quicker.</p><p>Zak looked over at him, surprised for a moment before his eyes narrowed. He was right to be suspicious. If Doyle had any attachment to him, he might have been proud. "Yeah, but I don't want any." He paused. "Not unless you have mini-marshmallows."</p><p>Doyle snorted, grabbing a bottle to shove into the warmer before fumbling around for a cocoa packet. "I made you an offer, I didn't say I was taking requests. You're not really in a position to be picky." He gestured around them. "But, hey, if you want to walk to the store and grab some for yourself, I think the nearest Wal-mart is about, oh… two-hundred miles in that direction." He gestured vaguely toward the South. "Nunavut is the only Canadia territory without one, did you know? Ain't that some shit."</p><p>The cautiously friendly look on Zak's face was wiped away as he stuck his tongue out, sinking further in on himself. "Like I'd even want to. Food costs at least three times as much in the North thanks to the food shortage going on due to the worsening geopolitical situation between the Inuit-controlled territories and the rest of the country."</p><p>There was a pause. Doyle blinked, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be driving a boat. "What?" He uttered intelligently.</p><p>Surprising him, Zak turned faintly pink. "...I don't actually know what it means," he admitted. "I just heard dad discussing it with Dr. Cheechoo once and thought it sounded smart. Did it, uh, work?"</p><p>Despite himself, Doyle burst out laughing. He pulled himself back upright and refocused on driving as his side-clenching laughter dissolved into breathy chuckles instead. "It sounded a lot smarter before you admitted that you didn't know what you were talking about," he offered. "But maybe you shouldn't go around parroting everything you hear. I'd hate to think what your parents would say if you started repeating some of the shit I've been saying."</p><p>"I don't do it around them," Zak retorted, that childish defensiveness returning to his voice. "I don't need to pretend around my parents. They already love me."</p><p>Doyle winced. He wondered if Zak was really that comfortable with his feelings (unlikely, considering he was an eleven-year-old boy) or if he was just <em>that </em>perceptive (equally unlikely, for the same reason).</p><p>He made a point of not removing his hands from the controls and stared directly ahead. Doyle cleared his throat pointedly. "That's, uh… great. You know, you don't need to pretend for anyone, at all. Especially not if it's to get them to like you."</p><p>Fuck. If the kid was a master manipulator, then Doyle had just admitted to having a heart. And if Zak was that emotional, then Doyle doubted that his shallow two sentences on the topic were going to do much to dissuade that self-destructive line of thinking.</p><p>"I know that," Zak said and, to his credit, didn't sound nearly as smug as he could have. "Do you?"</p><p>The noise Doyle made was a cross between an indignant sputter and another peel of laughter. Regardless, it didn't sound pretty. "Who the fuck said I was trying to get anyone to <em>like </em>me?" He shot back, hoping that Zak couldn't hear how hard his heart was pounding.</p><p>Oh, goddamn it all. Was Doyle really so bad at keeping a straight face that a <em>kid </em>could pin him so easily?</p><p>"You're doing it right now," Zak challenged. Out of the corner of his eye, Doyle could see that the kid had stopped slouching and was leaning forward, staring at Doyle intently. "You keep <em>saying </em>that you're a dangerous mercenary who doesn't care about laws or other people, but you're still cracking jokes for my benefit and offering me a warm drink. So which is it? Because if the part of you that's being nice to me is fake…" He sat back in the chair, frowning at the floor. "...then I don't want to help you with this."</p><p>There were several conflicting emotions. First was — strangely — guilt, but Doyle choked that down so quickly that it barely even registered. Then he was angry, then incredulous, then annoyed, then sympathetic. And then Doyle just gave up and turned to Zak with a long sigh.</p><p>"Look, I kidnapped you to force you into helping me collect a bounty and get paid. I don't know where you got the idea that I was trying to make buddy-buddy by not being a complete dickhead, but that's on you, not me." When that didn't lessen Zak's glare any, Doyle rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. So… maybe I'm not the unfeeling badass I like to pretend I am. Are you going to give me shit for wanting to be nice to you the whole time?"</p><p>Zak didn't smile, exactly, but his expression softened a little and it felt like something slid into place. Doyle's eyes widened a fraction. So it wasn't that Zak was a mind reader or incredibly touchy-feely. He was just <em>observant</em>. And that made him insecure and, more importantly, scared.</p><p>Other than Doyle's word, what proof did Zak have that he wasn't going to end up dead at the end of this anyway?</p><p>The guilt surged again, stronger. Doyle was no stranger to murder, much as he hated it, but he'd never do something like <em>that </em>to a child. The fact that Zak seemed to consider it a possibility meant that Doyle had a lot of proving himself to do. And a lot of jokes to crack.</p><p>At least it was good to see that Zak possessed some modicum of common sense. Doyle couldn't entirely blame him for that when he <em>had </em>kidnapped Zak.</p><p>It looked like Zak was about to start saying something but, thankfully, something bright orange and buoyant caught Doyle's attention, bobbing along the waves, and he slumped in relief. "Oh, hey, look! We're here. Thank fucking God."</p><p>He plowed the boat through a few small clusters of thin ice and made a beeline for the buoy. Doyle had put it there himself once he found the right cave. It was close enough that he wasn't wasting too much of his air supply to get to the cave entrance and far enough away that he wasn't going to risk getting maimed by the things that lived down there just by approaching.</p><p>"Already?" Zak also seemed glad to forget their tense conversation, getting to his feet and looking through the window to get a good view of his surroundings. "I didn't think it'd be so close to shore."</p><p>Doyle bit down a snarky reply. It was a reasonable enough observation. He shrugged. "Most underwater caves are close to the shore." He had no idea if that was true or not, but Zak accepted it without question.</p><p>Approaching the buoy, Doyle killed the motor and walked out of the cabin. The wind had picked up out over the water and the temperature was noticeably lower. He grit his teeth against it and pulled his gloves from his coat pocket. Slipping them on, Doyle grabbed the anchor and dropped it over the edge of the boat. It hit the water with a splash but didn't sink very far with the chain pulled taut.</p><p>He started rotating the crank, wishing it wasn't so rusted so that he could get it done faster. Doyle knew about how deep he had to go to reach the soft mud beneath, but even if he undershot it, he would loop the boat to the buoy. That would at least make it easier to find if things got twisted around beneath the waves. The fishing boat was white and grey which, considering the scenery, didn't make it very easy to locate. The buoy was the only splash of color between the slate-grey waves, the paper-white snow, and the dusty-blue sky.</p><p>It took until Doyle had finally managed to toss a rope loop around the buoy for Zak to wander out of the cabin. Doyle liked to think that he had been trying to make the boat start before inevitably realizing that he couldn't drive a boat and that Doyle would kick his ass for trying. He <em>liked </em>to think that but, in reality, Zak had probably just been awkwardly waiting for Doyle to come back and tell him what the plan was.</p><p>"Alright. Now we suit up." Doyle turned to Zak and dusted his hands off for show. Privately, he was kind of glad that Zak hadn't been standing there to watch Doyle drag a soaking-wet rope out of the sea a dozen times before finally managing to toss it over the buoy. "Have you ever been diving before?"</p><p>The question made Zak perk up. "Yeah!" He nodded enthusiastically before remembering himself and reining it in a little. Not that it made much difference. "My parents have a PADI Open Water certification and I have a junior certificate," Zak explained, puffing up with pride. "And they take a refresher course every six months. They don't let me dive deeper than forty feet." Seeing Doyle's blank look, Zak paused, thinking for a moment, and said, "Uh… twelve meters, give or take?"</p><p>Doyle grunted in disinterest. "Yeah, well, we're going a little bit deeper than that, so I hope you've been paying attention during swim class, because we're out of the kiddie pool and losing the floaties. Our goal is about eighty-five meters, but we might end up as deep as a hundred, so be prepared. You're gonna need to insulate. Luckily, you're already dressed pretty warmly, so that part's done."</p><p>For some reason, Zak looked confused. "You don't have proper divewear insulation?" He asked. "I mean, I guess layers of clothes work, too, but they don't leave much room for flexibility. Mom and dad like to use Thinsulate," Zak suggested, as if that information was helpful when they were already too far away from shore to reasonably go back.</p><p>"Well, for today, just pretend that you're wearing "proper divewear insulation," alright?" Doyle stepped around him, gesturing for Zak to follow. "C'mon, I keep the suits in the cabin."</p><p>"You don't hang up your equipment?" Zak asked incredulously. Doyle couldn't see his face, but imagined Zak's eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. The idea that someone could store divewear in any way <em>other </em>than hanging it all up seemed to render him stupefied. "Are you even certified?"</p><p>Not missing a beat, Doyle said, "Nope." His water bottle had finished heating by then, so he grabbed it and twisted it open, pouring cocoa powder into the narrow neck. It ended up getting powder over his hand and the floor, but Doyle didn't care. He shook the bottle to dissolve the power as he turned to Zak again. "Why? Should I be?"</p><p>Zak sputtered, at a loss for words. "Should you—? <em>Yes</em>!" He insisted. "Diving is incredibly dangerous! You could end up with nitrogen narcosis if you aren't careful, or give yourself decompression sickness if you aren't taking time going down and coming up, and— wait." He paused, fumbling for the right words, because clearly the kid had no experience talking to someone as inept as Doyle. "Do you stop to decompress when you come up?"</p><p>Doyle sort of shrugged. "Sometimes, if I feel lightheaded. I took, like, three diving classes. Or three sessions of the same class that I didn't complete because it was fucking boring. I mean, how hard can it be, really? It's as easy as strapping everything on and going down until your air starts running out." He took a sip of his hot cocoa to hide a smile. Watching Zak work himself up over something that wasn't a big deal was kind of hilarious.</p><p>While Zak was trying to comprehend how Doyle was still alive, he set his bottle down to open a different drawer off to the side, tucked beneath a first-aid kit built into the wall. In preparation for Zak joining the expedition, Doyle had gone out and grabbed a child's drysuit with appropriately-sized equipment. If Zak asked, Doyle would say that he had "rented" everything, but he doubted that the kid would believe that.</p><p>"Here's your suit. You know how to put one on, right?" Doyle handed over the smaller drysuit, a diving mask, a snorkel, scuba gloves, and fins. He kept the more technical stuff separately, though Doyle just crammed all of the outerwear into one compartment together.</p><p>Normally, Doyle didn't bother with the full-suit when the mask Van Rook gave him was water-tight and could connect to air tanks. But usually, Doyle wasn't diving a hundred meters deep into frigid water.</p><p>"Yeah, I know how to put it on," Zak finally managed. He was holding the drysuit in both hands, but wasn't putting it on.</p><p>Once Doyle had all of his things bundled in his arms, he straightened back up and shot Zak a questioning look, one eyebrow arched. "What? Do you need help or something?" He asked. "Hurry up. I don't want to be down there all night." The sun was already on the horizon but Doyle wasn't about to drag this out another day longer than he had to. The water was already so cold that doing this at night wouldn't really change anything.</p><p>"I don't need help!" Zak insisted, indignant. His scowl smoothed over and turned into a thoughtful frown. "But I'm not diving with you if you don't take any safety precautions. You should at <em>least </em>have regular decompression stops when you're coming up! And you should start coming up once you only have one-third of your air supply left, not when you're almost out. I can't believe you're not even certified."</p><p>Doyle somehow resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Alright, fine. How about this?" He set down his equipment and stuck out his hand for Zak to take. "You can handle the decompression stops or whatever on the way up if it'll make you feel better." Zak didn't take his hand, so Doyle thought for a moment and added, "And I'll consider getting certified in diving properly."</p><p>Considering who the kid's parents were, Doyle really should have figured that he was one of the most stubborn people in the world. "You have to agree to absolutely get certified and take my advice seriously while we're underwater," he said, digging his heels in.</p><p>"We're not going to be able to talk underwater," Doyle tried to argue, dropping his offered hand. That much was true. Not with the rebreathers in their mouths, anyway. He made a mental note to go over some basic hand gestures with Zak.</p><p>"We'll be able to talk in the cave," Zak pointed out, "and I can still help you when we're coming up, you just have to stop when I tell you to. You already know how to decompress, don't you?" Doyle wasn't sure why he framed it like a question when he already knew the answer.</p><p>He chuckled through clenched teeth and his eyes narrowed. "You're pushing it, kid," Doyle said, using "kid" as a substitute for a far-more-accurate word: "<em>brat</em>."</p><p>Zak was unmoved. "Then I guess I'm not going down there with you. You'll get us both killed way before the cryptids even know we're there."</p><p>If Doyle was the mercenary that he was trying to be, then this was the part where he'd smack Zak, at the very least. Rough him up a little, so he knew who was in charge. Because it was absolutely ridiculous that Doyle had kidnapped this kid and he still thought that he was in any position to be making demands. Doyle's fingers twitched, wanting to form a familiar fist, but he took one look at Zak and knew that he couldn't do that.</p><p>No, Doyle couldn't hurt him, and Zak knew it. That clever bastard.</p><p>"Fine, alright, you win," he groused. "We'll make regular decompression stops. Are you satisfied? Done with your little tantrum? Can we go now?"</p><p>The smile that came to Zak's face was warm and far too familiar for the kind of relationship they had: which was a nonexistent one, because Doyle refused to get attached. It wasn't his fault that Zak was easy to please. He just chose to be grateful that the kid hadn't gone in for a hug. Doyle liked to think that he would have pushed Zak away but, well, Doyle liked to think a lot of things about himself that weren't necessarily true.</p><p>"Aye aye, captain," Zak chirped back with a mock salute. "Ready when you are."</p><p>Doyle swallowed a grateful sigh. <em>Finally</em>. Phase two was complete. Onto phase three.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You all thought the "caretaking" tag was going to be Doyle taking care of Zak but, nope, it's the other way around. Doyle is an idiot with no self-preservation instincts at all. He's going to give Zak a heart attack.</p><p>Just so you all appreciate my research, Dundas Harbor is a real abandoned settlement and everything Doyle said about it is true. The <em>B-Mar</em> is also a real boat, actually owned by the company that Doyle sited. I am nothing if not thorough.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Phase Three: Gone Fishing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was going to have more in this chapter, but it got too long. This one isn't exciting, but still important.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Oh, one last thing before I forget. Hold on a sec." Doyle stuck out his hand to keep Zak from entering the water and made a "<em>stay put" </em>gesture. Curious, Zak turned to watch Doyle walk back into the boat's cabin.</p><p>Getting ready hadn't taken very long, but Zak was impatient to get going. The sun was setting and the scuba tanks were heavy on dry land and it was getting colder by the second. His body was warm, thanks to the layers beneath his drysuit, but his face was exposed to the air and Zak's nose had gone numb from the cold. At least his ears were tucked in the suit's hood, but that wasn't going to keep the rest of his face from being soaked with freezing water.</p><p>There were icebergs in the sea, even! Zak had never been diving in water that cold. It probably wasn't below zero, at least not in Fahrenheit, but that didn't make him feel much better.</p><p>Zak was roused from his thoughts when footsteps signaled Doyle's return and Zak perked up at the sight of what was in Doyle's hands. "The Claw!" Zak took it without waiting for it to be handed to him, running one gloved-hand along the smooth metal staff. "You actually kept it? I thought you were bluffing."</p><p>Even through clothes, the Hand of Tsul 'Kalu hummed in Zak's hands, as though pleased to be returned. Zak wasn't about to have a happy reunion with an inanimate object (at least, not while Doyle was watching), but he was relieved beyond words that it hadn't been lost.</p><p>"Well, you need a weapon, don't you?" Doyle arched an eyebrow. He gestured to the utility belt around his torso where the knife he'd selected for himself was strapped securely, among other things. "I'm not stupid enough to leave you defenseless. Also, it looks pretty sharp, and that comes in handy a lot more than I thought it would."</p><p>Zak could have told Doyle that himself, but he kept his mouth shut and didn't snap out the mocking insult that he was thinking of. He slipped the Claw into one of his straps instead and said, genuinely, "Thanks."</p><p>He never thought he'd end up thanking someone for returning his stolen property, but life was funny like that sometimes. It would have been easy for Doyle to never bring it up again and keep it, even though he probably didn't have much use for something like the Claw. The intention, though, for Zak to be able to protect himself against more than only cryptids… That was worth thanking Doyle for.</p><p>He wasn't a bad guy. He had just gotten confused somewhere down the line.</p><p>"Don't mention it." Doyle walked over to the ladder that led off the end of the boat and into the water. "So, here's how this is going to work. I'm going to lead and you're gonna follow. It gets dark fast underwater, so I've got some glow sticks that I'll keep strapped to my belt so you can find me again if we get separated. If you get lost completely, just head back to the boat. Resurface and look for the buoy. Should be easy enough to spot. I've got pretty basic hand signals. Uh, up, down, left, right, follow me… Just pointing and gesturing, really."</p><p>"And this one," Zak cut in, making an "X" with his arms. "Mom and dad use it to signal that the air's down to the last third of the tank. We really should head up when we get to that point. It's a safety precaution they teach you in class."</p><p>For the sake of getting this over with and not starting a fight, Zak chose not to comment on the way that Doyle rolled his eyes. "Yeah, alright. Whatever makes you feel safer, kid." He was being sarcastic, but he'd still agreed, so Zak considered that a win.</p><p>Despite kidnapping him, Doyle seemed pretty committed to not letting Zak get hurt. He'd gotten defensive at the idea that he would have been careless enough to let Zak overdose, he was giving Zak a weapon knowing full-well that Zak knew how to attack with it, and he was agreeing to cut into their time so that drowning wasn't a risk. It was a lot more than someone like Van Rook would have conceded to.</p><p>That was enough talking. Zak didn't do a lot of the technical parts of getting ready for a dive, but his SPG said that his air was full and that was good enough. Zak put the regulator in his mouth and pulled the scuba mask into place, giving Doyle a thumbs-up.</p><p>He knew that he shouldn't be, but Zak was a little excited. His parents would never let him this deep and he had always wondered what the ocean looked like deeper, where the light started to fade.</p><p>Doyle pulled the hood of his suit up and tucked his red hair under the water-tight seams. With his regulator in his mouth and his scuba mask on, Doyle stepped off the boat first. He lowered into the water with a faint splash and let out an undignified noise as the cold hit him. Then Doyle recovered and gestured for Zak to follow after him.</p><p>Anxiously, Zak patted his chest to make sure that the Claw was still there before he followed. He moved swiftly, not wanting to seem scared. His stomach lept up into his throat when he let go of the railing to fall the last few inches into the water and Zak choked on nothing when he felt the cold envelop him. It wasn't as freezing as he thought it would be, it was just surprising. It was weird to have the cold encircling him but not touching him, like Zak was standing in the middle of a blizzard while huddled around a fire. He'd never been diving in water this cold and he was pretty sure that he never wanted to be again.</p><p>Once he recovered, Zak lifted a hand above the water level to show Doyle another thumbs-up. If his hand was shaking, then neither of them mentioned it.</p><p>There was no other preparation to do. They dived. Zak realized as soon as his head was underwater that he hadn't bothered asking if Doyle knew how to equalize. Hopefully, it would be instinctive but… well, if he hadn't ruptured an eardrum yet, then it was probably fine.</p><p>Doyle led the way, diving at a downward angle with smooth, almost languid movements. As Zak followed, he drank in the scenery with big eyes. The first thing he noticed was how clear the water was, like it was white instead of blue. Visibility dropped sharply when he looked down but, if it weren't for the icebergs, Zak had the strange feeling that he could see for miles and miles in any direction around him.</p><p>He had to swim more quickly to keep up with Doyle than he did with his parents but it was a little too late to ask Doyle to slow down. Besides, moving kept the cold away. And Zak really didn't want to spend more time in freezing water than he had to. His cheeks were already numb and, he imagined, bright red.</p><p>There wasn't much in terms of plant life, other than dark green and brown moss and dirty-looking lichens that clung to the rocky and muddy sea bottom. The bottom, however, quickly disappeared as it dropped off into a steep underwater gorge. Seeing it, Zak's eyes widened with interest. A voice in the back of his head that sounded like his mom reminded him of how dangerous those were, but he was already ignoring those words and swimming forward before it had even registered.</p><p>For his part, Doyle didn't even break his strokes. He just glanced behind him to make sure that Zak was still following, then cracked one of the glowsticks he had brought with him and held it as he swam. There were significantly less fish once they had passed the lip of the gorge, but there hadn't been very many before. At least, not when compared to warm water.</p><p>Zak put on a burst of speed to catch up with Doyle, his arms and legs burning pleasantly. He was breathing hard but, since his throat wasn't dry and his lungs weren't burning, Zak didn't think much of it. It had been a while since he'd been diving.</p><p>The pressure difference wasn't noticeable all that much. Zak knew just by looking up that he was deeper underwater than he'd ever been, a thought that filled him with equal parts anxiety and excitement. The dive computer on his wrist said that he was already thirty meters underwater and it had been about five minutes. He couldn't help but be a little nervous. Zak knew that air was used up faster underwater so, based on what his SPG said about how much air was remaining, he thought that he had about thirty minutes left. Maybe. Doyle was carrying an extra tank for both of them, but to use it he would have to get it from Doyle somehow without communicating. They should have made hand signals for that.</p><p>For the time being, there wasn't much that Zak could do about it so he tried to put it out of his head and focused on swimming. The faster that they got there, the faster they would be done, right?</p><p>Doyle seemed to agree, if how fast he was moving said anything. At one point, he did stop and rise a few meters, which Zak was grateful for. Not because he needed a break (even though he sort of did), but because at least that meant Doyle knew what to do about nitrogen narcosis and he wasn't going to keep swimming deeper if he was confused and making poor judgment calls. And, if Zak was being honest, maybe his head was starting to hurt a little, too.</p><p>Since they were getting deeper and the light level dropped dramatically with every meter, Zak was keeping his eyes open looking for whatever cryptid Doyle had been having issues with before. The description he'd been given was vague, but he figured that if they were territorial and aggressive, he'd figure it out whenever something humanoid attacked them. That was usually how field research with his parents went, anyway.</p><p>He knew that they were getting closer when Doyle slowed, drifting closer to the walls of the gorge but not going any deeper. He waited for Zak to get close, then set a hand on his shoulder and pointed down beneath them with the hand that was holding the glow stick. Zak followed where he was pointing but, unable to see anything, just shrugged. Maybe that meant they were close to the caves. He had no idea.</p><p>They <em>really</em> should have been more specific with those hand gestures.</p><p>Zak couldn't see Doyle's face very well, but he could tell that Doyle rolled his eyes before instead tapping Zak on the chest. Tapping the Claw, anyway. Zak's eyes widened as the realization hit him. He reached up and unholstered his weapon, taking tight hold of it. If he dropped it, he had no idea how deep the gorge was. Definitely deeper than he could swim before running out of air.</p><p>That seemed to be what Doyle wanted, though. He nodded and grabbed the knife that he'd brought with him, long and curved with ridges running along the blade like teeth. Much as Zak disliked it, the knife reminded him of shark teeth, then he remembered what Doyle had said about how vicious nature was, and… He couldn't fault Doyle for protecting himself.</p><p>With both of them at the ready, Doyle continued swimming with both hands full. As careful as they wanted to be to maintain the element of surprise, Zak was hyper-aware of the gauge on his wrist steadily ticking down to when his air would be out. And they still had another ten meters down to go.</p><p>His breathing was coming more shallowly in his ears and Zak had to stop a moment to pull himself together. New cryptids were usually exciting, but then again, they weren't usually hiding in the pitch blackness of the ocean and ready to tear into him at the slightest provocation. Mostly, Zak just missed having his family to back him up. He felt invincible with them around.</p><p>He noticed, somewhat clinically, that the fish were gone. Other than the hardy moss, marine life seemed to have left the area. That was never a good sign. Zak gripped the Claw tighter. Animals were better at sensing predators than humans, but even he felt the atmosphere beginning to grow heavy. And it wasn't just the water weighing down on him. He tried to calm himself without taking deep breaths. No sense in burning through his air supply.</p><p>Suddenly, Doyle stopped. He grabbed Zak's wrist and pulled him down suddenly, causing Zak's head to swim. They pressed against the wall of the gorge and behind a jutting rock. It wasn't very big, but the crackly edge of the rocks provided plenty of similar little covers. Doyle made a shushing motion and pointed forward, through the dark water. Zak wasn't stupid enough to try and shine a flashlight in that direction, though he had one on his utility belt. He squinted instead, trying to make out the details of the strange figure.</p><p>It had hair from its head that looked like an oil spill, a stain against the ocean. Most cryptids didn't have human-like hair so the possibilities racing through Zak's head rapidly narrowed. It was difficult to judge distance underwater, but Zak could tell that it was about his size, so either it was full-grown and the species was small, or he was looking at a young one. He doubted it. If they were pack animals, they wouldn't let one of the young wander off on its own. This one was obviously hunting, holding completely still to conserve energy, and waiting for something to get close enough and disturb it before snatching it swiftly. Most animals that used that hunting method were either very small or lived in climates severely lacking in food, like much, much deeper in the ocean, for example.</p><p>When it didn't seem like it had noticed them, Doyle gave a little tug on Zak's hand, trying to signal for him to follow. Zak didn't pull his stare away from the cryptid. Dozens and dozens of scientific lectures his dad had given him were flickering through his mind. He had tried to zone out most of the time, sure, but some things stuck despite his best efforts.</p><p>And this cryptid was familiar, for some reason. Zak tilted his head thoughtfully. It drifted a little closer and he could see that it had human-like arms and legs, probably webbed and clawed. It was awfully skinny, which wasn't surprising. Food must be hard to come by. It looked like it was <em>starving</em>. There was something that looked like fur slung carelessly around its body, almost like a wrap. Even though Zak couldn't see its torso, he was willing to bet that its ribs were jutting out.</p><p>Then Doyle yanked on his arm, <em>hard</em>, and Zak was flung forward. He felt something brush by his hair and realized with a sinking feeling that it had been claws. And that was what made everything slide into place. A name came to mind and Zak let out a noise of surprise, water flooding into his mouth before he clamped down reflectively on his regulator.</p><p><em>Qallupilluit</em>. That was its name.</p><p>Immediately after that, another name came to mind. Something his mom had said when his parents ultimately decided not to try studying it: <em>child-snatcher</em>.</p><p>The second the word occurred to him, Zak kicked his legs to put distance between himself and the cryptid. There was another slash, but not from it. A muffled, high-pitched wailing started up far too close for comfort. Zak twisted around the same time that Doyle wrapped an arm around his waist, shoving Zak behind him. A plume of darkened blood had exploded in the water like an inkblot, not unlike the cryptid's hair. It was writhing like a beached fish, reflexively grabbing at the long, bloody wound on its arm. Doyle was holding his knife out in front of him, his other arm positioned to shove Zak back again if he attempted to get closer.</p><p>But, suddenly, Zak had no interest in studying the thing. His fascination had popped like a bubble. He found himself shrinking back before catching himself with determination. Child-snatcher or not, he wasn't going to let himself be charmed. If this cryptid was using magick or mystic energy, then it stood to reason that Zak could tap into it, too. He was still holding on to the Claw.</p><p>While it thrashed, swiping and snarling at Doyle, Zak focused his concentration on it and leveled his Claw at its face. It was a lot uglier up close. There was lichen growing along its skin, scales mingling with its odd-textured skin to give it a dry, peeling look. And it was even skinnier than Zak thought, like there were no layers between its skin and its bones. The skin clung to its frame like a plastic bag might get stuck on a stick, like a strong gust of wind might knock it free. And its eyes were the worst part, darker than even its hair and bottomless, devoid of light or consciousness. The longer Zak held eye-contact, the more he could feel himself slipping, but he couldn't look away, either. He had to look at it if he was going to make a connection.</p><p>It shrieked with a mouth of razor-sharp teeth, a noise without description but possessing universal meaning: <em>hunger</em>. Its own blood was working it up even more. It wouldn't be long until the smell and the struggle attracted more. And if they didn't tear apart one of their own, then it certainly wouldn't be difficult to corner Doyle and Zak.</p><p>It was almost impossible to connect to a creature so focused on feeding itself. Zak clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth were beginning to hurt. He was sweating and breathing too hard, but he <em>almost </em>felt something, and if he couldn't even control one, then he was never going to be able to get Doyle to his treasure.</p><p>The cryptid's eyes lit up orange, just for a moment, and it thrashed its head angrily. Undeterred, Zak tried again. When its claws sent Doyle a few feet back, Zak pointedly avoided Doyle trying to grab him again and instead drifted closer to the cryptid. It was definitely interested in him, and he used that to his advantage. It was easy to insert little nudges to change its train of thought.</p><p><em>You're hungry, </em>Zak thought without blinking. The Qallupilluit had stilled, though it was within arms-reach. It could rip his throat out before Zak so much as let out a breath. So he held it and felt himself leave his body, inserting himself beneath another's skin ever-so-gently. <em>I'm hungry, too. We both want something. Why risk a fight when we can help each other? If you help us in, we can get you food.</em></p><p>The Qallupilluit snarled, but Zak didn't flinch. He gestured for Doyle to stay away without looking to see if he was listening. It had no faith that Zak was telling the truth. He had only gotten this far because pack animals were naturally more inclined to cooperate, especially if it minimized the possibility of someone getting hurt or killed.</p><p><em>Please</em>, he implored, though cryptids had no concept of the word. <em>Your territory is sacred, I understand. We won't take anything you'll miss. We'll never return. Food for you and your pack. That's agreeable.</em></p><p>It was still for what felt like a long time, thinking. Then the Qallupilluit's eyes stopped flickering orange as the flame held, the link between it and Zak established. The tension fell from Zak's shoulders and he smiled, fighting off a wave of exhaustion. He risked a glance over at Doyle, still holding his knife, and flashed an OK-hand. It wasn't a guarantee that the link between them would hold, but Zak was at least feeling more confident that the cryptid wouldn't start ripping them apart.</p><p>Controlling a dozen of them would be something else entirely, sure, but Zak was hoping that this one knew the ins-and-outs of its caves and would help them enter undetected. Which was good, because Zak had something he really needed to talk to Doyle about.</p><p><em>Can you help us get inside? </em>Zak tried, but the cryptid didn't want to cooperate. It was snarling again, upset about something. Not Zak, though. Actually, he could feel its thoughts beating against his consciousness, almost like it was trying to reach across their connection to get his attention. It was asking for help. It was feeling threatened, but by what?</p><p>Realization lit up Zak's face and he turned to Doyle. He kicked out to swim a few feet over and, before Doyle realized what he was doing, Zak grabbed his knife and threw it to the side. There was a gargled shout as Doyle reached for it but, with how dark the water had gotten and how difficult it was to judge distance underwater, the knife plummeted down and was gone.</p><p>The Qallupilluit immediately relaxed. Doyle, not so much. The look on his face said that, as soon as he could talk again, Zak was going to get quite the earful. But he met the glare with a raised eyebrow and a shrug, and Doyle settled for unhappily rolling his eyes and gesturing for Zak to get on with it.</p><p>There was no need to ask twice. With its eyes still glowing, the Qallupilluit began swimming up. The way that it swam was eerie. It had fins, though they weren't big enough to account for its grace. It moved through the water effortlessly despite its human-like body and disproportionality. Zak hesitated for a moment but, when he didn't sense any ulterior motives from it, he gestured for Doyle to follow and swam after it.</p><p>They didn't end up going far, just a few meters up. Zak kept an eye on his oxygen and told himself not to worry. Doyle still had extra, and they shouldn't need it while in the cave. The Qallupilluit darted into a narrow gap between two rocks that would have been easy to overlook if a person hadn't already known it was there. Zak could sense it just beyond the opening, waiting, and tested out further with his powers. It was hard to hold a connection while feeling for new ones, but he didn't sense any other cryptids nearby, so he carefully approached the gap and eased his way in. It was pitch-black, which wasn't surprising. Zak only knew that Doyle had followed because of the light of the glowstick he brought with him.</p><p>With one hand held out in front of him and the other keeping the Claw securely at his side, Zak swam slowly forward. He blinked out at the nothingness and was surprised to feel something brush his feet. His fins caught on something for a moment and, feeling around carefully, Zak was able to tell that there was ground beneath him. He rested his weight on it, standing up. The Qallupilluit had stopped moving and, feeling the ground beginning to slope upward, Zak followed it forward.</p><p>His head broke the surface of the water and Zak gasped, choking for a moment in his surprise. He moved faster, digging his free hand into the rocks to get a grip and clamoring his way up the rocky slope and onto a flat piece of ground. The first thing he did was pry the regulator out of his mouth and turn off his air. It felt so good to be able to breathe normally again. Before he could think about how to get Doyle's attention, he heard someone resurface behind him, coughing, and relaxed.</p><p>"Are you fucking kidding me?" Were the first words out of Doyle's mouth once he removed the regulator. He fumbled for something, the sound of wet fabric sliding together, then Zak had to cover his eyes as Doyle flicked on the flashlight he'd brought with him and swung the beam around. "I've tried getting in here without being noticed for <em>months</em> and you make those creepy fucks light up like glow sticks and we're in, just like that." He shook his head, the shadows of his hair flicking back and forth to signify the motion. "Unbelievable. I should have kidnapped you a <em>long</em> time ago."</p><p>Ignoring him, Zak walked over to the water's edge, crouching down when the tips of his fins were just barely submerged. The water rippled as the Qallupilluit's head emerged and Zak heard Doyle curse, stepping away and probably reaching for the knife that he didn't have anymore. Unbothered, Zak set down the Claw and reached out. Their connection was still strong, orange light sending faint, flickering shadows along the ground. He wasn't worried.</p><p>"Thanks," Zak said quietly. It drifted closer, bony shoulders rising out of the water along with part of its chest. Its skin was practically translucent, so white that it was almost blue. He crooked his fingers and it blinked at him with empty eyes. Gratitude wasn't something that it understood or cared about, but it ducked its head away, brushing its forehead along his fingers before turning and slinking back under the water.</p><p>It was quiet for a few seconds. Then, when the water had stopped rippling, Doyle opened his mouth and ruined it. "Are you sure it won't alert the others, or come back and rip our throats out?"</p><p>Zak barely held back his indignation. There was a surge of anger in his chest as he stood up, turning to face Doyle with a glare. His grip on the Claw was tight enough to ache. "Do you think this is funny?" He demanded, trying and failing not to sound hurt. "I never thought you were an upstanding citizen, but those things are <em>child-snatchers</em>! These cryptids have been known to empty ocean-side villages of children for centuries. And you brought me to a nest full of them!"</p><p>Doyle had the decency to look apologetic, but it wasn't much comfort. "How was I supposed to know that? I've never seen these things before!" He insisted. "I wouldn't have brought you here if I knew that."</p><p>And a part of Zak wanted to believe that, but that was the problem: he couldn't. He knew so little about Doyle when he stopped to think about it. Other than the fact that he was awesome and didn't like the idea of letting a child die, Zak was in the dark. He didn't even know Doyle's last name.</p><p>"Yeah, sure," Zak muttered.</p><p>They were too far to go back, though. The treasure Doyle wanted so bad was probably only a few turns ahead. They would get it, carry it somewhere more accessible, and make a few more trips to float it all back up to the surface. Zak just wanted to go home.</p><p>He resisted the urge to rub at his eyes, knowing how childish it would make him look, and turned away from Doyle. "It's not going to come back for us. Once I've made a connection, the suggestions I make usually stick around for a while." He fumbled for the flashlight Doyle had given him, sliding it into his hand and flicking it on. Walking in the fins would be awkward, but Zak didn't want to risk taking them off in case they had to get away quickly.</p><p>When Zak turned back around, his flashlight was "accidentally" pointed right at Doyle's eyes for a few seconds. Maybe that was petty, but Zak didn't care.</p><p>Doyle groaned, eyes squeezed shut, and made a helpless gesture with his shoulders. "Look, Zak, what do you want from me? An apology? I'm sorry that I accidentally dragged you into a den of carnivorous child-hunters. I didn't know!"</p><p>There was a soft noise that made Zak's ears prick, his head turning toward the cave's exit. "Shut up," he said, distracted.</p><p>"What, so you can spend the whole rest of this trip pouting? I don't think so, kid. I—" Doyle only shut his mouth when Zak walked over and elbowed him, hard. He made a "shush" gesture with a finger pressed to his lips, grabbing Doyle by the elbow and dragging him over to the wall.</p><p>Sinking down, Zak hid in a small crevice while Doyle crouched behind a rock about the same size that he was. Hopefully, it would suffice. They both turned off their flashlights and held their breath.</p><p>For a moment, there was nothing. Zak was starting to worry that he was just being paranoid when there was the sound of wet footsteps and growling. With nothing but darkness in front of him, Zak felt fear shoot through his chest intensely enough to make him dizzy. It wasn't so bad when he could see the cryptid. But like this, he was completely at the mercy of chance. Was the Qallupilluit going to notice them or move on? He had no idea and that was terrifying.</p><p>Against his better judgment, Zak reached out with his powers. As soon as his eyes began to glow, Doyle hissed something that sounded like, "<em>You're fucking crazy," </em>but Zak wasn't listening. He was met with a snarl and the Qallupilluit lunged toward him. On land, it hunted on all fours somewhat awkwardly, crouched over with its head tilted at an almost ninety-degree angle to try and sink its fangs into Zak's side. It was only sometimes visible when the light from his eyes washed over it, making half of it impossible to see most of the time.</p><p>Zak fell back, landing hard in a sitting position with the Claw pointed out in front of him. He touched this one's mind with more force than he meant to, causing both of them to wince even as Zak kept up a steady mental chant of, <em>You don't want to hurt us, you don't want to hurt us, you don't want to hurt us.</em></p><p>That was an easy suggestion. Like the other one, this Qallupilluit was hungry, but it didn't want to risk a fight one-on-two. The risk of getting itself killed outweighed its chances against two others, even if Doyle wasn't armed. It didn't know that. The hard part was getting information out of it when Zak didn't have anything to offer. It wouldn't accept the trade of food from him when he didn't have anything to back up that claim, not like the blind faith the other Qallupilluit had given him.</p><p>"What's the holdup?" Doyle asked quietly, sliding into a careful crouch next to Zak. He had a hand on his utility belt but had learned from the last time and didn't try to pull anything out that could be mistaken to be a weapon. "What are you telling it? Isn't it as easy as getting it to listen to you and do what you want?"</p><p>Instead of telling Doyle how stupid that sounded, Zak settled for shaking his head. "No," he managed, the words taking considerable effort when he was also trying to calm a wild cryptid. "It only wants food, and I don't have anything to give it. It'll leave us alone, but I'm trying to find out if it knows where the treasure is…" After all, the cave system could go on for miles and Doyle wouldn't know how to get there when he'd never entered the caves this way.</p><p>Doyle made a frustrated noise and jerked his head to the side. "Just get rid of it," he hissed. "We'll find a way to find what we need without help."</p><p>Biting his lip, Zak hesitated. He risked looking away from the Qallupilluit to shoot Doyle an uncertain look. "Are you sure?" He asked. He didn't want to throw away an opportunity.</p><p>The smile Doyle answered with was probably supposed to be reassuring, but it came across more like a grimace. "I'm sure. As long as we don't run into a hoard of them, it'll be fine. We have plenty of time to search."</p><p>That was stretching the truth a little when they didn't have food or water. Still, Zak nodded. He nudged the cryptid's thoughts toward the water and out of the cave and it went without much protesting. There was more prey less likely to fight back out there. When it was gone, Zak wiped the sweat off of his forehead and pushed the hood of his suit off to let his head breathe. Sweat dripped down his neck and he hoped that Doyle didn't notice.</p><p>"Okay," he said when he was sure that the Qallupilluit was gone. "I can't promise that it won't alert the others, but it's gone for now. We should hurry."</p><p>"You think?" Doyle scoffed. He pulled his flashlight out and grabbed Zak by the wrist, hoisting him back onto his feet and dragging him along behind. "C'mon, mini-man. We need to start heading down. Do you sense any more of them around here?"</p><p>Zak reached out with his powers while Doyle led the way out, following the path that the second Qallupilluit had come from. He couldn't sense very far, but he pushed against his limits and came up blank. "Nothing," he confirmed. "Maybe they're all out hunting?"</p><p>"They'd better be. And I hope for both of our sakes that they don't come back any time soon. Thanks to your little stunt out there, I don't have a weapon anymore." Doyle didn't stop walking, but he let go of Zak's arm to grab something from his utility belt with his free hand. "Well, I've got this multi-tool." He held out a closed pocket knife with a few different attachments, frowning. "Not that it'll do a lot of good in a fight against a bunch of them." He rolled his eyes.</p><p>"I had to!" Zak protested, feeling his face turn hot. "It was going to attack you. And it wasn't like I had a way to tell you to put the knife away. We never came up with a hand signal for that." Following Doyle's lead, Zak clipped the Claw to his belt and grabbed a flashlight instead. It didn't do much to help illuminate the pitch-darkness, but it made him feel a bit better.</p><p>It didn't look like much of a nest. The Qallupilluit hadn't done a lot to make themselves at home. The walls were uniform rock, sometimes damp but otherwise just like any other cave system someone could come across. Zak was keeping an eye out for off-shooting branches but, at the moment, there was only one path. It sloped downward slightly but was straight.</p><p>"You could have just sheathed it on your own utility belt," Doyle insisted, getting weirdly heated. He stopped walking and turned to Zak, who almost bumped into him for the suddenness of the action. "You know what I think? I think you got rid of my knife because you didn't want me to hurt those things."</p><p>That wasn't the reason — at least, not entirely — but Zak met Doyle's glare stubbornly. "So what?" He asked.</p><p>Doyle's left eye twitched. "Would you stop being so concerned with the safety of those fucking things? They're trying to kill us, in case you hadn't noticed!" He snapped. "I'm trying to keep you safe!"</p><p>"Really?" Zak shot back sarcastically. "It's a good thing you told me because I never would have been able to guess otherwise!"</p><p>That got to him. Doyle leaned back as though stunned. He blinked once, twice, and when Zak's glare didn't lessen any, the emotion faded from his face. Unbothered, he shook his head and gave a huff that could have been a laugh if it didn't sound so disjointed. "You know what? You're right. I don't know why I even care." He turned away from Zak and kept walking, moving forward.</p><p>Zak hesitated, hovering where he was. He waited for Doyle to pause or look back, but he didn't. It would have been easy for Zak to turn around and leave, but then what? Doyle didn't have any weapons. If something happened to him, Zak couldn't drive the boat and he couldn't fly the jet, either. He had no way to even call his parents. And he had no food. The bottled water on Doyle's boat could only get him so far. Besides that, if he just left Doyle, Zak knew he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. Even if he couldn't be much help, his powers had gotten them this far already, hadn't they?</p><p>He was supposed to be befriending Doyle, too. Zak was doing an awful job at it.</p><p>Finally, when Doyle was out of sight and Zak only had the light of the flashlight to guide him, he jogged forward in order to catch up. The noise his fins made against the damp rock might have been funny under any other circumstance. He slowed when he caught up to Doyle, crossing his arms to show that he was still upset. But he wasn't stupid or heartless. "Let's just get this over with," he muttered.</p><p>Doyle's only response was a hum, but it was both an acknowledgment and an agreement. At least they were on the same page.</p><p>Continuing in silence, they moved slowly through the caves. The ground began to slope more sharply the deeper they went, twisting to the right and the left and doubling back on itself until Zak wasn't sure which direction they had come from. The tunnel itself didn't have any off-shooting paths big enough for them to go through, which made navigation easier but didn't help them get to their destination any faster.</p><p>Periodically, Zak would stop walking and reach out with his powers to feel if they were getting any closer to the center of the nest. Doyle would wait for him, but never said anything, and continued as soon as Zak gave a shake of the head. He was starting to grow nervous. It was possible that Qallupilluit didn't stay in one area, but that theory didn't sit right with Zak. They didn't seem like animals that migrated. But maybe they were and the two they had already run into were just stragglers. Zak was hoping that was the case because otherwise, he had no idea where the rest of them were and that unnerved him more than he wanted to admit.</p><p>Eventually, they came upon a place where the path split off into three. Doyle didn't pick one immediately. He shined his flashlight down both of them and, coming up with nothing of note, turned to Zak and gestured at the cave openings with a flourish. "Well, mini-man?" He prompted only semi-sarcastically. "Do you sense anything that can kill us? The treasure is toward the center of a whole hoard of them, so the closer we get to that, the better."</p><p>"I don't know. I'll try," Zak said. He switched his flashlight out for the Claw and hovered near the mouth of the first entrance. With how slippery the ground was and how little traction his flippers had, he didn't want to risk it without light.</p><p>He closed his eyes and reached out and down, fumbling for any responding flicker of life. Zak got nothing at the first one or the second one but, at the third, he felt something. It was faint, but still definitely there.</p><p>"I think this is it," he announced, feeling Doyle come to stand closer to him. Zak squinted into the dark and took a step forward. "Does the ground look too steep to you?" It was hard to tell since the ground and walls and ceiling were all the same color of rock, but Zak could have sworn that the cave emptied into nearly a straight vertical drop a few feet in. He took another step and felt his stomach plunge into his feet.</p><p>"Zak!" Doyle lurched forward, dropping his flashlight with a clatter to latch onto Zak's wrist. The light went spinning, illuminating the panic on Doyle's face and the wall behind him before dropping off of the edge of the precipice. It fell a few feet, then landed on a sheer slope and slid the rest of the way into blackness. Zak couldn't tell if it was broken or had gone out.</p><p>"I can get myself up," Zak managed once he could hear beyond his heart slamming in his ears. "Just— let me—" He pointed the Claw at the ceiling with one hand, still hanging onto Doyle with the other.</p><p>He undershot it in the dark. Doyle let out a grunt of pain as the Claw hit him and, the next moment, the world fell away. The ground rejoined him much too quickly and Zak felt the breath get knocked out of him as he fell onto the rocky slope. He scrambled for purchase but, with how slick it was and with Doyle nearly falling right on top of him, Zak didn't get the chance.</p><p>He heard the Claw clatter down behind him and was quickly following it. He closed his eyes as he braced for the inevitable impact at the bottom, but it didn't make a difference. It was completely pitch-black.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Phase Four: Tactical Retreat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Whoops, almost forgot to update today! I'm kinda insecure about this chapter because I don't know if it's that great, but I am excited for the final one! The last chapter is coming soon and I think it's going to be even longer than this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Doyle skidded to the bottom of the drop with approximately zero fucking grace. His head was throbbing where the kid's claw-weapon (how had Doyle never known that it extended?) had slammed into his forehead near his temple. Blood was dripping down the side of his face in a thin amount and he really hoped that it wasn't enough for the animals in the cave to notice.</p><p>He pushed himself up with a groan, resisting the urge to grab his head. Smearing blood all over his dive equipment was not the smart choice at the moment. "Zak?" He had heard the kid go down with him. A shot of terror went through Doyle when he didn't get an immediate response. Of all the times for his flashlight to go out… "Zak, you conscious?"</p><p>There was a soft noise of acknowledgment from somewhere in front of him. "Yeah, I'm fine," Zak said to the darkness. "Just winded." He paused. "S-Sorry about… that."</p><p>He shook his head before remembering that Zak couldn't see him. "Don't worry about it," Doyle said. "At least we're getting closer. Hey, is your flashlight working?" Despite his words, this was definitely a huge fucking setback. Getting back up top was going to be virtually impossible and it seemed like they were losing supplies by the minute. But Doyle had been the one to drag a child in on this stupid mission, so if things were going poorly, it was no one's fault but his. He was mature enough to admit that. Not that it annoyed him any less.</p><p>"I think so. Hold on." Doyle turned his head more to the left as an orange glow started up from nowhere. Without any other light, the only thing illuminated was Zak's eyes and a narrow section of his face. It was off-putting, how unnerving he looked. For a kid, Zak could certainly be intimidating. The effect was immediately lost when he started patting the ground like he had lost his glasses, letting out a relieved sigh when he found his Claw. "Found it. I was worried mom and dad were going to kill me."</p><p>The light of his eyes went out as Zak switched his weapon for his flashlight from his utility belt, flicking it on and pointing it at the ground near Doyle. He still had to squint to avoid the worst of the glare from the sudden light, but the effort was appreciated. He cracked a smile. "Well, at least not <em>everything </em>went wrong all at once. You alright? Nothing broken, nothing bruised or bleeding?"</p><p>Zak stood up, the light jostling with the movement as he walked over to Doyle. "Yeah, but I don't think the same can be said about you." He knelt in front of Doyle, frowning at the gash on his forehead. "Sorry," he apologized, wilting with regret. "I really didn't mean to. I was just going to grapple and pull myself up. Guess that backfired."</p><p>Grapple, huh? Maybe they had a way back up the slope after all.</p><p>Doyle shook his head. "No, I'm good. Don't worry about it. It's not a deep gash."</p><p>"Still," Zak insisted, reaching out as though wanting to inspect the wound. "I wish I'd brought one of those mini first-aid packs. Mom and dad never go diving without one."</p><p>They could have used a scrap of clothing to wipe up the blood, but taking the drysuit off seemed like a really stupid decision. Doyle brushed Zak's hand away and stood up. There was a brief wave of vertigo that Doyle stood still through, stepping forward only when it had passed. No need to make himself look like a stumbling drunk.</p><p>Looking back at Zak over his shoulder, Doyle asked, "Do you sense any of them nearby?"</p><p>The kid's eyes lit up again in response. It was bad enough when he was just making them glow, but when he was reaching out or however those powers worked, Zak's eyes went glazed and unfocused. It gave him the appearance of being unconscious. Or dead.</p><p>Doyle had seen a dead body before. It unnerved him how much Zak could look like a corpse sometimes.</p><p>"Yeah. They're much closer now," he said, turning his head to the left. "I'm sensing a lot of them in the same place. I think they've been out hunting and the two we ran into were supposed to be lookouts, to guard the cave while the rest were gone. Now I think they're all feeding." Zak paused. He looked pasty. "I, uh, think there might be more than a dozen of them."</p><p>He knew he was going to regret this, but… "How many?" Doyle asked.</p><p>Zak was quiet for what felt like a solid minute. Then, when Doyle was losing patience, he said very quietly, "About fifty."</p><p>It was a fight not to scream. <em>About fifty. </em>That was over four times the amount that Doyle had seen his first time in the cave. He remembered that vividly. The treasure his client was after had been right in the middle of the room, surrounded by the splintered and rotted wood that had once contained it. Everywhere he turned, his flashlight seemed to fall upon another pair of empty eyes. He had escaped, somehow, with his drysuit in tatters and his scuba tank dented and bleeding heavily.</p><p>And now he was about to drag a child into that. A den full of carnivorous child-snatchers.</p><p>As if sensing his distress, Zak set a careful hand on Doyle's forearm. "We should be able to just wait until they leave to go hunting again or when they go to bed, right? We don't have to fight them or anything. Besides, I don't think I'd be able to influence a whole nest of them, anyway." He grimaced as though he hated to admit it. As if Doyle was unreasonable enough to expect jaw-dropping perfection from a child.</p><p>Holy shit. He really was an awful person, wasn't he? Doyle had always known Zak's age, but for some reason, it had always just been another number on a spreadsheet. It felt so much more real when they could both die at any moment. When Doyle was faced with the uncomfortable realization that he'd rather give himself up than some strangers' kid that he'd known for all of a day.</p><p>"Yeah." Doyle was brought back to himself with a nod, and he took a deep breath. "Yeah, alright. That should be fine. We'll just get as close as we can without alerting them, then bunker down somewhere for the night and wait. Seems like they're not nocturnal, so…" They probably couldn't see in pitch-blackness like this, which meant that they relied on other senses to get around. Doyle was hoping that it kept them from going very deeply into the cave, too, but he somehow very much fucking doubted it. He never got that lucky.</p><p>"I'll lead the way," Zak offered, handing over his flashlight. He held up the Claw with a cheeky grin that was less than skin deep. As he turned away from Doyle, facing down the path, he began glowing again. It wasn't very bright, but it lit up a wider area than Doyle's narrow flashlight beam.</p><p>One thing Doyle quickly noticed when he started following Zak was that they were a lot slower. He kept a hand on Zak's shoulder so they wouldn't get separated (and so Zak wouldn't immediately fall to his death if the floor disappeared beneath him again) and found himself shuffling his feet so as not to step on any toes. Metaphorically speaking, anyway. He figured that Zak was moving slowly so that he could focus more on feeling if there was anything nearby.</p><p>Doyle really wished that he didn't have blood on his forehead. There wasn't a smell more obvious to a starving animal than that one.</p><p>It was quiet between them for a while. There was an increase of awareness, now that they were so much closer to a swarm of angry, starving wild animals. The silence didn't last. Zak cleared his throat. "So, uh, what are your parents like?"</p><p>There was an immediate surge of defensiveness. Doyle wasn't entirely sure what Zak was expecting — maybe some story about how they never cared about him, or were both smokers and drunks, or for him to break down crying and go on and on about how he was only acting out for mommy and daddy's attention — but he wasn't in the mood to deliver a sob story and sit through the bullshit pity he'd get as a result. He shrugged. "Dead."</p><p>Zak flinched, his powers flickering as he momentarily lost concentration. "Oh, I—" He fumbled for the right words and Doyle felt a rush of guilt.</p><p>"No, don't apologize. You didn't know," he sighed. Damnit, the kid was just trying to make conversation. It was pitch black and they were walking into a nest full of creatures that could rip their faces off. He wanted a distraction and Doyle couldn't blame him for that. He understood the feeling all too well. "I was really young when it happened, I think either five or six, so… Yeah. I barely remember them."</p><p>There were a few things he remembered about his parents, but Doyle couldn't recall any facial features. Sometimes he could remember a girl about his age with hair so blonde that it was practically white. Then again, he was also pretty sure that his mom had white-blonde hair, so he could just be confused by the bits and pieces. Because if he had a sister, too, she was probably dead like mom and dad. And Doyle really didn't want to add another corpse to his long, long list of regrets.</p><p>The silence stretched between them again, until Zak lifted his free hand to sort of awkwardly pat Doyle's arm. The gesture was probably meant to be comforting but Doyle choked on a little burst of laughter at how stilted it seemed. "That still sounds like it really sucks," he said, which was the biggest fucking understatement Doyle had ever heard. "I can't imagine what I would do without my mom and dad." Zak made a face like he really was trying to picture it, before giving up. "Do you at least have any good memories? I can still remember being really young and doing fun things with my parents."</p><p>"Well, yeah, but you're only five years removed and I've had three decades of other memories," Doyle replied. But, in the name of keeping the conversation going, he sighed. "Oh, I don't know… I remember they liked to travel a lot. Real free spirits, mom and dad were. We toured some big city in India once and I remember eating some of the local food and bursting out crying at how spicy it was." Despite himself, a smile came to Doyle's face. "But, you know, I didn't want to look like a pussy or anything, because I kept trying to eat it all and it only got worse and worse. I think eventually mom took pity on me and just took the bowl away, but to this day I've got a grudge against Indian food."</p><p>Zak laughed, muffling himself in his palm. "Mom and dad do a yearly census of the chupacabra population in California and, the first time they brought me with them, I remember breaking away from them. And I found one of the chupacabras napping. Well, I came up and sort of smacked it, I think. I startled it so badly that a whole group of them took off and it put mom and dad behind by three days, trying to round them all up again and make sure they didn't miss anything. They never let me forget it, either, they keep reminding me to leave the chupacabras alone <em>every year.</em>"</p><p>The laugh that Doyle gave was more out of politeness than actually finding anything funny. His chest was starting to hurt. He wondered what sort of running jokes he would have had with his parents if they were still around. Doyle couldn't even remember their names. There was no way for him to find out if he had had a sister or not. It was for the best that he left her to his imagination.</p><p>They were coming up on a branching path so Doyle quieted and slowed. He didn't need to ask. Zak faced both paths with his eyes glowing, a far-away look in his eyes, before picking the one that went left. "We're getting close," Zak said, keeping his voice down. "It should be just a little up ahead." Either subconsciously or on purpose, he slowed. Doyle shrank his footsteps to match, bending his knees to not make himself too obvious.</p><p>The good atmosphere evaporated with every step. Before long, Doyle's pace had slowed to a crawl and he was holding his breath, crouching low and balancing on the balls of his feet. There was a shift in the air and, instinctively, he turned off his flashlight. He swallowed around a dry throat, wishing that he still had his knife. Or even a sharp rock. His stupid little pocket multi-tool wasn't going to do much in a fight, not unless a tiny pair of scissors suddenly became extremely useful.</p><p>He knew they had arrived when Zak sucked in a hard breath and stopped moving. His eyes stopped glowing and the tunnel was plunged into pitch blackness. Doyle blinked uselessly, letting Zak tug him by the hand over to crouch behind a jutting piece of the wall. He felt along it with his hands to make sure he wouldn't slam his head against a pointy piece and settled in next to Zak, out of sight. As if it mattered.</p><p>Doyle wasn't sure who's breathing was louder: his, or Zak's. But after a long moment where neither of them spoke, Zak whispered, "Do you hear that?"</p><p>It would have been easy to snap that, <em>no</em>, he hadn't fucking heard anything and talking was just going to get them eaten faster. But Doyle held his breath and tilted his head to the side, listening hard. He could feel that the cave opened into a cavern up ahead just by the change in air pressure. There was a faint breeze coming from somewhere. It was so quiet that his ears were ringing. The silence was as oppressive as the darkness.</p><p>Then Doyle <em>did </em>hear it. There was a sick, wet noise, and something that he instinctively recognized as chewing. He grimaced. Listening to those things devour their latest kill wasn't his idea of getting the job done, but it wasn't like they had much of a choice.</p><p>"Great, they're eating… Can you use your powers without the light show?" Doyle muttered back. He was thinking that maybe, if they could get the main room down to two or three of those things, Zak would be able to hold them back until Doyle grabbed what they needed. His Claw would be useful for grappling in and out if there was going to be another drop. But the plan he was making up even as the words left his mouth hinged on Zak being able to keep tabs on them without getting their attention.</p><p>"Eating?" Zak asked, apparently disregarding the second — <em>and far more important </em>— half of Doyle's statement entirely. "No, I was wondering if you could hear the singing."</p><p>Oh, dammit all. There were all kinds of red flags there. "Singing? What the fuck are you talking about?" Doyle set a hand on Zak's shoulder, grabbing maybe a little tighter than strictly necessary. "No one is singing."</p><p>"Yes, they are," Zak insisted, growing heated. And his voice was rising in volume, too. <em>Fuck</em>. "They sound sad. And lonely." He paused. "Maybe I should go see what's wrong."</p><p>He made a move as though going to stand up. Doyle clamped his hand down on Zak's shoulder hard enough that it would probably leave a bruise. "Why do you keep saying "they"? Who do you think is singing?"</p><p>"The Qallupilluit, obviously." Zak made a noise like he couldn't believe that he had to explain something so simple. "All of them, together. There aren't any lyrics, but it sounds so mournful. I think something happened."</p><p>Doyle shook his head despite knowing that Zak couldn't see it. Maybe if he could hear the singing too, Zak might have a point, but Doyle still wasn't going to go anywhere near a bunch of killer animals just because they were sad. And the fact that only Zak seemed to be able to hear this "singing" just made it worse. All Doyle could think was: <em>child-snatchers, child-snatchers, child-snatchers. </em>"I don't care how sad they are. They still want to kill us, so you're staying right the fuck here."</p><p>Zak snorted. "Paranoid, much?" He jostled his shoulder to try and get Doyle's hand off, then squirmed harder when that didn't work. "Let go, Doyle. You're not the boss of me!"</p><p>A stab of alarm shot up Doyle's spine as he leaned forward, clamping his other hand down over Zak's mouth. "<em>Shh</em>!" He hissed. "Are you <em>trying </em>to get us caught?"</p><p>Apparently, the answer was yes. Zak jabbed his elbow into Doyle's chest, trying to squirm out of his hold. Doyle dropped the hand on Zak's shoulder to latch an arm around his waist, pinning the kid to his chest sort of like he had in Ellef Ringnes. It didn't help that their drysuits offered practically no friction and they were both still damp. Zak was slipping out of his hold with all of his kicking and struggling and, with Doyle still trying to keep them both quiet, he didn't have an arm to spare when Zak managed to get his feet on the ground. He slammed his head back into Doyle's forehead, stunning him long enough to tear himself the rest of the way free. Doyle lunged forward and felt his fingers brush the back of Zak's head before he fell to his knees in darkness.</p><p>A voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Van Rook was telling Doyle to leave him, that Zak had been useful but he would make for a good distraction while those things descended upon him, but he was fumbling for his flashlight without even needing to think about it. Terror was making his heart pound, adrenaline flooding him and fighting off the cold and soreness as Doyle clamored to his feet. He didn't make a sound, but the flick of his flashlight turning on was probably more than enough to get the attention of the cryptids. Fuck it. He didn't care about that. He wasn't letting Zak get bewitched and eaten by something that looked like a blobfish crossed with gunk you would pull out of your sink drain.</p><p>It was easy to spot Zak once he had light again and Doyle quickly scrambled toward him, sending the beam of light scattering through the cave. The only sound was their pounding footsteps on stone, right before Doyle knotted a hand in Zak's hood and yanked him to the ground. It was unnerving to look into his eyes. Maybe it was just a trick of the dim light (which Doyle doubted), but Zak's eyes were glassy and empty. His voice had sounded normal when he spoke, yet looking at his face, it was as though something else entirely was pulling his strings and moving his mouth. Because Zak definitely wasn't in there. Not that it kept him from trying to get back to his feet.</p><p>It was too late. He knew it was, he could tell even without all the noise Zak was making while he struggled against Doyle and the light flashing this way and that like a strobe. They were practically begging for attention and, unfortunately, it seemed like they were going to get it.</p><p>Zak went still. Doyle didn't hear any singing, but with the sound of chewing having stopped a while ago, another noise finally reached him. He winced. It sounded like ice crunching, like freshly fallen snow trampled beneath heavy feet and icebergs colliding. It wasn't a noise that a human could have made.</p><p>Flippers smacking against rock greeted Doyle next and, even though he knew he ought to just throw Zak over his shoulder and make a break for it, he raised his flashlight in the direction that the noises were coming from. In the direction of the open cavern where he knew his treasure was.</p><p>A Qallupilluit was staring back at him. Only one, though Doyle knew the others weren't far behind. It was just standing there, arms limp at its sides, head cocked as though curious. Doyle was fooled for even a goddamn second. Forget adrenaline — his blood had turned to ice in his veins.</p><p>It didn't have pupils, but Doyle could tell it was looking at Zak. Its mouth was moving, letting out those uncomfortable noises that Zak somehow mistook for singing. It was a good twenty feet away still, but the effect that its proximity was having on Zak was undeniable. He shuddered, expression twisting up as though he wanted to be angry, before everything tense was just… gone. Zak went completely limp, dazed, staring somewhere past Doyle's shoulder as though the ceiling could have imploded and he wouldn't have so much as blinked. It was like he was already dead.</p><p>Doyle was having trouble thinking beyond the furious and terrified chanting in his head. How had this all gone so wrong so <em>fast</em>?</p><p>More of those creepy fucking cryptids were approaching from behind the first one. Doyle could hear them. He grabbed Zak's Claw. Even if he didn't know how to really use it, it was bound to be more helpful than his tiny multi-tool. The claws on it certainly looked sharp.</p><p>He held himself in a low crouch in front of Zak, who seemed content to lay where he was. Doyle stiffened as the Qallupilluit's gaze slid over to him. He had assumed that they would be more interested in Zak and he couldn't be more wrong. The problem was that Zak already registered as being subdued. He was as good as dead, all but food in their mouths as far as the cryptids cared. Doyle was the one still fighting, he was the one making himself a threat. And when facing down a pack of hungry animals, the last thing one ought to do was make themself into a threat.</p><p>But Doyle's only other option was to run, and he knew already that these things were faster than him. They had the home-field advantage. Even if he got to the water, Zak was in no condition to swim and the Qallupilluit would only be faster in their more natural environment.</p><p>He was going to die. Doyle felt the realization with such certainty that it knocked the breath out of him. He had always thought that he might die being shot in the head or in an explosion, something quick enough that he didn't have to suffer for more than a few seconds. But here, like this, Doyle was going to die and it was going to <em>hurt</em>.</p><p>Zak was going to die, too. That thought shouldn't have been more upsetting than the idea of losing his own life, but it was. Doyle tightened his grip on the Claw, steadied himself. He was going to die, and Zak was going to die, and it was all going to be his fault. He wished that he could make up for it, that Zak was conscious enough to understand the apology that Doyle wanted to give him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be so much simpler.</p><p>That was what he got for never thinking things through, for only being able to think about profit and reward. Doyle shined the flashlight around and noticed more Qallupilluit climbing up to the ledge overlooking the cavern, the mouth of the cave. All of them were making that ice-crunching sound and all of them were looking at him. They multiplied. There were two, then four, then eight, and eventually that "about fifty" estimate that Zak had given him seemed low.</p><p>If he was going to die, though, Doyle could at least make sure that it wasn't an easy win for these horrible things.</p><p>The first one finally stopped "singing" and let out a snarl, crouching low, claws brushing the stone. Several others mirrored it and more hung back, ready to pounce when it began to look like the others were losing but not a moment before. Doyle didn't flinch, didn't let himself take the time to be scared. He lowered himself a little further and set the flashlight down next to Zak, pointed at the things coming to kill them. At the very least, that would keep him from having to fight in pitch blackness.</p><p>"You wanna dance, motherfuckers?" Doyle snapped, raising the Claw with both hands. "Let's dance."</p><p>The first one hissed, jaw unhinging in a way that made Doyle wince. It lunged for him, claws swiping, and Doyle side-stepped to slam the backend of the Claw into its temple. There was a sickening crunch and it hit the ground hard, unmoving. It had gone down barely more than a meter away from Zak and it seemed to get his attention, too. He was stirring, blinking once, though Doyle couldn't see his eyes with the way that the flashlight was angled.</p><p>It didn't matter. He refocused on the attacking cryptids. If they all came one at a time, Doyle might have stood a chance, but he knew already that he was hoping for the impossible. Pack animals didn't work like that.</p><p>Three more charged at him, one after the other. Doyle took an instinctive step back, swinging the Claw into the chest of the closest one and dropping to deliver a hopefully crushing blow to the second's shins. He lost track of the third one for just a second, and that was enough. Claws sank into his side, missing his skin by one layer of clothes only because Doyle leaned away at the last possible moment.</p><p>He knocked himself off-balance in the process and one of them took the opportunity to pounce on him. Doyle caught its teeth with the Claw, grunting, his arms straining with the effort of keeping it off of him. He could feel its cold breath on his hands and staring into its black eyes was no different than staring into the darkness of the cave. Slobber dripped between them as it snarled against the staff of the Claw. Doyle slammed his knee into its stomach and sent it off of him with one strong kick, bringing his leg back down just in time to catch his foot on the head of another one. But that still left the unchecked third monster to make a swipe for Doyle's neck. He felt its claw brush over his artery, pulse slamming so hard that he could feel it in every inch of his body, before Doyle shot a hand up and punched it as hard as he could. If it had a nose, he would have broken it.</p><p>These things were smart enough to know to aim for the vitals, anyway. Doyle scrambled to get back to his feet. Against three of them, staying on his back was a death wish.</p><p>Although, to be honest, it was a little late for that.</p><p>Doyle almost missed it, stuck as he was between the three circling Qallupilluit and the rest of the advancing group, but there was a shift and a groan. Zak had his arms propped up under himself and was sitting up. How aware he was, Doyle didn't know, but he felt his breath catch. The kid wasn't stupid. Doyle could convince him to run, maybe, chuck the Claw at him and hope that he could hold the rest off with his multi-tool for long enough that he could get away. Then maybe Zak could figure out how to drive the boat, or send out a flair to find help, or… anything other than dying here.</p><p>He opened his mouth but, instead of a warning, what came out of Doyle's throat was a grunt of pain. He panted hard, stumbling back and curling his arm to his chest. Blood dripped down his sleeve, making a sticky mess beneath his layers of clothes. The ice-crunching noise from the Qallupilluit got louder and Doyle recoiled, resisting the urge to cover his ears. They could all smell it. Some of them were still smeared with the drying blood of their latest kill. They had their sights set on him next.</p><p>There was a soft gasp from Zak, his hands clamped tightly over his ears but his eyes fixed on Doyle. It looked like he was struggling and in pain but, at the very least, aware. "Stop," he said, eyes darting around. Doyle had no idea if Zak was talking to him or to the cryptids or to whatever noise he was trying to block out. "Stop it, stop it <em>now</em>."</p><p>Zak curled in on himself, clutching his hair so tightly that his hands were shaking. His eyes were squeezed shut as he fought off some sort of pain that only he was aware of.</p><p>A part of Doyle was concerned, sure, but a bigger part of him was more worried about getting <em>ripped to shreds</em>. He lashed out with the Claw at the nearest Qallupilluit and felt his back hit the stone wall. That was bad. That was <em>really </em>bad. He had just cornered himself. The Qallupilluit ignored Zak entirely, forming a ring around Doyle. Every time he struck one of them, another was snapping at his wrist, inching closer and closer all the while. That was the goal: minimize his potential to hurt any of them and swarm him all at once. It would just take a few seconds. Whatever they left behind wouldn't even be recognizable as a corpse.</p><p>"I said <em>stop</em>," Zak repeated, closer to a shout now. He opened his eyes and they were glowing, flickering rapidly between orange and white. Orange, white, orange, white, orange white… Zak looked both terrified and furious. The Qallupilluit closest to him trembled and stopped advancing.</p><p>Doyle made another attack with the Claw and one of the Qallupilluit grabbed hold, wrenching it from his hands. The others made a noise that almost sounded like a laugh, sending shivers up Doyle's spine, and Zak let out a wordless yell.</p><p>He shook his head hard. "Stop it, stop it, leave him alone!" One of them lunged, fangs snapping for Doyle's neck. "I said, <em>stop</em>!"</p><p>There was an explosion of light that instinctively made Doyle close his eyes, holding a hand up to block it out. The Qallupilluit whined as though pained and Doyle squinted through his fingers to take in the sight around him. They were… retreating? He watched, awed, as the little demons that had been inches from another meal shuffled their feet and backed up, giving Zak and Doyle a wide berth as they bowed their heads against the light.</p><p>Speaking of Zak, he had ditched the glowing eyes and pulled another party trick out of nowhere. His entire body was alight, as though he'd been doused in gasoline and left drenched in flames. But there was no heat, only an intense brightness that made it difficult to look at him directly. And maybe Doyle was imagining it, but he could have sworn that the air itself was humming, vibrating almost musically.</p><p>He took a deep breath, lowering his hands to grab the bloody wound on his upper arm. Doyle managed a dry laugh. "Christ, kid. You couldn't have done that sooner?"</p><p>Zak's face screwed up in pain again as he swiveled his head around to look Doyle in the eyes. "I think there's something mystical nearby. This place feels… powerful." He pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, holding the other out and making a grabbing motion. "The Claw. Do you have it still?"</p><p>He didn't, and a quick survey of the ground didn't show anything either. Doyle was about to say as much until one of the Qallupilluit scurried forward, Claw in hand. It pressed it into Zak's palm before quickly retreating, still shaking its head and alternating between snarling and whimpering. It was as though it couldn't decide if it was hungry or scared.</p><p>Regardless, Zak curled his fingers around the Claw with a grateful sigh. When he did, the glow enveloping him transferred to the head of his weapon. The intensity wasn't diminished, but it looked like he was in less pain. Which was good.</p><p>Honestly, Doyle had no fucking clue what was happening or how Zak's powers worked. He hesitated and took a step closer, then another when nothing bad happened. "Are you, like… okay? What just happened?" Doyle didn't want to hover and fret like some kind of mother hen, so he settled for stopping a few feet from Zak and keeping his hands to himself. It didn't help keep him from worrying.</p><p>The glowing eyes were back and Zak fixed him with a stare that would have been piercing if his expression wasn't so glassy and vacant. "The Claw helps me focus my powers," he said eventually, looking around. The Qallupilluit stayed at the edge of the light, glowing orange eyes and angry clicking being the only sign that they were still there. "I think that whatever they were doing to try and lure me was causing… feedback?" Zak said the word like he wasn't sure, frowning. "It just took me a while to gather myself and push back against it. But I'm good now. Perfectly in control."</p><p>Doyle's mouth opened without his permission. "You looked like you were in pain."</p><p>There was a flicker of surprise on Zak's face. For some reason, it caused guilt to swell in Doyle's chest. "I'm fine. You're the one bleeding," he said, eyes dropping down to Doyle's arm. Zak shuffled a little closer, freehand outstretched like he wanted to get a better look. "Is it bad?"</p><p>Automatically, Doyle drew back. He regretted it as soon as he saw the look on Zak's face, but he resolved to make up for it later. They had bigger things to worry about. "It's fine," he said reflexively, darting nervous looks around them. "Come on. We should go grab what we came for while you're still the one calling the shots." He set a hand on Zak's shoulder to guide him and started walking toward the opening of the cave, where their path emptied out into a sprawling cavern. The Qallupilluit moved out of their way, not that they seemed happy about it.</p><p>During previous dives, Doyle had managed to get glimpses of the center thanks to sweeping passes of his flashlight before upsetting the entire group. He must have been incredibly lucky to not stop by whenever all of them were home, probably because his past dives had been in the middle of the day. But it had been enough for Doyle to be able to tell that there was a room full of treasure there, and a <em>lot </em>of it.</p><p>"A lot" didn't even begin to describe the full sight that greeted him when Zak's glow lit up the room.</p><p>It was like a Viking ship had crammed every spare inch beneath the deck with gold and valuables and then dumped it all in the middle of the cavern. The moisture and cold hadn't been kind to the wood or the papers, but everything metal was remarkably intact. There were pathways woven through the pile where the cryptids had carelessly pushed things to the side in order to move around and lumps that looked vaguely like nests. If there was some sort of artifact causing Zak's power-up, like back at Ellef Ringnes, then it could have been anywhere. The artifacts were spread out wall to wall. Even taking into account all that was unsalvageable, Doyle was willing to bet that it was one of the largest caches of in-tact artifacts ever found.</p><p>Too bad the government and the public would never get to see it. Doyle made a mental note to ask for double the reward money before handing all of it over to his client. He doubted that even she knew just how much her ancestors had left down here. How they had done it at all was a mystery. Had the ocean level been that low back then or were they feeling particularly adventurous one afternoon with all of their loot?</p><p>"Wow." Zak's glow got brighter, either because he wanted to see more or because they were closer to the source of that "mystical energy." Doyle didn't ask. "How are you planning on getting all of this to the surface? I don't even think it will fit on your boat."</p><p>Ah, right. That was a good point. Doyle blinked. "Uh, well… I guess we can move it away from here and to a part of the caves where these things won't be so numerous. Then I can take you home and probably hire a small team to help me gather it all." It was going to be a hassle, to be sure. Internally, Doyle was groaning just thinking about it.</p><p>Zak made a face. "I don't know if I can keep this going for that long. It takes a lot of energy. Let me just—" He walked closer to the pile, down a short incline and onto the flat ground with the Claw outstretched, using it almost like a homing device to find the source of whatever was giving him so much extra energy.</p><p>As he went, he got brighter, until Doyle had to squint to look at him again. He trailed along behind Zak anyway, unnerved at being too close to the Qallupilluit. "Are you sure you should be fucking with this stuff? It might crumble to dust if you touch it and we'll be stuck."</p><p>"Uh, I'm not <em>entirely </em>sure," Zak admitted. Not that it stopped him from shuffling closer to the center of the cavern. His eyes were darting around hungrily. "So many things here feel powerful… It's almost double what I got at Ellef Ringnes. It's almost like…" He trailed off.</p><p>It took Doyle a moment to realize that it had gone silent, given how enamored he was with the various shiny things around him and trying to figure out how he was supposed to get them from an underwater cave to his boat, and eventually to his bank account. He noticed Zak had gone quiet when he also stopped walking and Doyle nearly ran into him. "Almost like what?" He prompted. "Zak? You still there?"</p><p>But the kid wasn't listening to him anymore. Zak reached out a hand toward a piece of jewelry. It might have been a necklace once but the chain was all but rust and the centerpiece was so dirty that Doyle couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a gem or a rock.</p><p>Doyle set a hand on his shoulder reflexively and nudged Zak back half a step. After the siren song bullshit, he wasn't taking any chances. "I get the feeling that that's not a good idea." Then again, that seemed to be a pattern with them.</p><p>"No, trust me on this." Zak shrugged Doyle's hand off of his shoulder and reached out again. He had taken off his diving gloves, intent on skin-to-artifact content. "I've never been able to see this far out before. I want to know if I can—"</p><p>His fingers brushed the necklace. Before Zak could finish speaking, he fucking exploded.</p><p>Well. Not literally, although it certainly felt like it. There was a gust of wind that nearly bowled Doyle over and the unholy shattering sound of all the off-balanced piles collapsing in on each other. The light was so intense that Doyle could still see it behind his closed eyelids, only getting a reprieve when he pressed his palms into his eye sockets. That time, there was even the faintest brush of heat, like desert air in the middle of the afternoon instead of the inferno that Doyle knew he was standing inside of.</p><p>"<em>Oh</em>," was all Zak said, sounding very small.</p><p>Doyle tried squinting into the light, but that was a horrible idea and it didn't help at all, so he settled for shuffling forward a few steps and clamping a hand down on Zak's shoulder. It really only accomplished finding the kid, because Doyle could tell that Zak wasn't going to stop glowing any time soon. "What are you doing?" He asked, trying to sound angry so he wouldn't sound scared. "Can't you shut it off?"</p><p>"I'm trying!" Zak shook his head violently. He shuddered. "I think I woke something up!"</p><p>The cavern shook. Dirt sprinkled down from the ceiling and the ground rolled. Doyle felt his stomach drop into his feet at the thought of the eight meters of water above them all crashing down if the rock broke away. Drowned, buried alive, crushed… Common sense took over and, suddenly, losing the treasure and dealing with an upset customer was the last thing that Doyle cared about.</p><p>He could hear the Qallupilluit screeching in terror and Doyle turned his head in time to watch the last one flee back into the caves. That was starting to look like a pretty good idea.</p><p>"Zak, we have to go!" Doyle tried to tug him away, but the kid refused to budge.</p><p>All of a sudden, he lurched into motion, ignoring the rocks raining down and the freezing water coming up to their ankles to shove his hands into the nearest knocked over pile of Viking junk. "We need to at least grab <em>something</em>!" He insisted, even as his glow began to fade. Doyle imagined that old mystical artifacts couldn't be holding up well against all of the jostling and swirling, ice-cold water. "Otherwise this whole trip will have been pointless!" It sounded like it was only by the grace of his parents that Zak wasn't cursing up a storm.</p><p>Doyle had absolutely no patience for that shit. The ground gave another mighty heave and there was the unmistakable, teeth-chattering sound of rock splintering. He grabbed Zak by the back of his drysuit and hefted him off of his feet like lifting a sack of potatoes. Doyle set Zak over one shoulder, ignoring his protests as he made a break for the cave opening they had come from. The water flooding in from God-knows-where was up to his shins.</p><p>He clamored up the ledge that led into the cave opening, setting Zak on his feet and keeping a hand on his back so the kid didn't try to make a break for it again. There was a sound like a bomb going off behind them and Doyle winced. Even though he knew he shouldn't, he risked a look behind him. The water was still rising, quickly covering what remained of the ancient treasure hoard. Large rocks, more like boulders, had been shaken loose from the ceiling and were letting in more water. One had landed right where he and Zak had been standing before, but that wasn't what had Doyle's attention.</p><p>There was something <em>moving </em>in the water. It was far too large to be the Qallupilluit. The distance was such that, even with Zak's flickering glow to provide light, Doyle could barely make out any details. He tried to convince himself that it was just the churning water but fumbled for his flashlight anyway, heart hammering away in his throat.</p><p>Zak had said that he'd woken something up. What were the odds that it was friendly?</p><p>Grabbing his flashlight had been the right move, because Doyle had just flicked it one when Zak groaned, holding his head with one hand and the Claw with a death grip in the other. One hand was still lacking a glove, which was just another level of anxiety for Doyle to deal with. It was so cold in the cave that their breath puffed out in front of them and the water was even colder. He wasn't going to get frostbite, was he?</p><p>Of course, Doyle quickly stopped worrying about that as Zak's knees buckled. He put one arm around Zak to hold him up, the other still holding the flashlight. "You okay?" Doyle asked, eyes darting around. He was hyper-aware of the possible <em>thing </em>in front of them, as well as the Qallupilluit behind them. With Zak's powers apparently drained, what was really holding those animals back?</p><p>"Yeah," Zak said, even though he clearly wasn't. He switched the Claw over to his ungloved hand and glanced back into the cavern. The water was brushing their toes. "I want to try talking to it."</p><p>"You're exhausted," Doyle protested immediately. There was a scowl on his face. He was tempted to put Zak back over his shoulder and just make a break for it, back out the way they came. He would have already done it if it weren't for the hissing of the Qallupilluit behind them. "No fucking way. That thing looks enormous."</p><p>It was closer now and Doyle knew right away that it was carnivorous, if the glinting teeth he caught glimpses of and its huge size said anything. Watching it made him shudder. It had to be at least forty feet long, twisting and curling through the water like a Chinese dragon. But it wasn't attacking. What was it waiting for?</p><p>"It's a N'ha-a-itk," Zak said, squinting at it. As if that information helped. "I think," he added. "I think it was hibernating. It's really mad that I woke it up."</p><p>Yet another reason to fucking <em>run</em>. Doyle resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, so?"</p><p>There was a tired grin on Zak's face as he raised the Claw. "That means it's probably hungry." His eyes began to glow and, heedless of Doyle's protests, the N'ha-a-itk was coaxed closer.</p><p>It was even uglier up close. The thing's head was so big that it nearly plugged the cave entrance as it lifted itself to meet Zak's eyes, two sets of them glowing orange now. Water still poured in, rising now to Doyle's ankles. He stood there, frozen, staring at the N'ha-a-itk as it stared at Zak. Its scales were an ugly shade of blue, its pupils in angry little slits as nostrils bigger than Doyle's hand flared. Whatever Zak was saying to it must not have been convincing.</p><p>"Doyle." Without looking away from the N'ha-a-itk, Zak held his hand out expectantly. "Take my hand."</p><p>And Doyle did, for some fucking reason. He wasn't sure what it was expecting, but it certainly wasn't for Zak to start leading him forward. Immediately, Doyle started pulling back. He could have pulled away entirely but he didn't, only going far enough that their forward progress was halted. "What are you doing?" He snapped. "I'm not touching that thing!"</p><p>It snorted, apparently taking that personally. "She doesn't trust us," Zak insisted, giving another tug. "Just put a hand on her snout. Please, Doyle. Trust me."</p><p>It should have been easy to refuse that. Doyle blinked up at the N'ha-a-itk's angry eyes and scowled. But with ice-water lapping at his legs, the Qallupilluit gradually advancing again from behind them, and what they came for swept away… Well, at this point, what did he really have to lose? Doyle squeezed his eyes shut with a frustrated groan and laid his hand against its rough scales. He felt Zak shift to mirror the motion next to him, and there was a soft rumble from the N'ha-a-itk.</p><p>The next moment, it was pulling away. Doyle opened his eyes and was surprised to see it turning away, eyes still glowing. He almost asked Zak what it was doing, but the question was answered for him when the ground gave another heave. His eyes widened and his knees buckled. It was trying to destroy the cave, to flush the Qallupilluit out the hard way.</p><p>Zak grabbed Doyle's hand again, and this time he was the one doing the tugging as he headed back for the cavern. "We can get out this way," he said, reaching for his rebreather. Doyle had almost forgotten that they had scuba tanks. The spares he brought with him had been dented in all of the excitement, but they should still work. "We'll have to stop to decompress, but then— otherwise it's just straight back to the ship."</p><p>Kneeling made it easier to balance with the caves shaking as Doyle fumbled with his equipment to shove a new air tank into place. He tossed the used one aside and started doing Zak's next. It would at least be enough to get them to the surface. He glanced at Zak's gloveless hand and scowled. "Fine. We'll stop whenever you want, but make it quick. Three minutes at each stop, max."</p><p>"That should be the minimum time," Zak muttered, protesting.</p><p>But he flexed the fingers of his bare hand, weighing the odds, and eventually nodded. Doyle didn't let himself relax. They weren't out of the woods yet.</p><p>Still, there was hesitation. Zak wasn't looking at him. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "About the N'ha-a-itk, and messing with the artifacts. We should have just grabbed what you needed and left. I didn't mean to—"</p><p>Doyle shook his head, nudging Zak forward. "Save it for dry land." The water was creeping up past his knees now. "We really need to get out of here. I fucking hate diving."</p><p>That got a smile from Zak, even if it was somewhat forced. He nodded and slid his scuba mask and hood on, placing his rebreather in his mouth. Struggling forward through the water, they dropped back into the cavern and were submerged instantly. It was even colder than Doyle remembered, especially with the cut in his drysuit letting in water and soaking his heavy winter clothes. He fought back a shudder and kicked out, letting Zak lead the way. He wasn't sure how the kid knew the way out but chalked it up to the N'ha-a-itk being a conversationalist. As they passed it, Zak's eyes flashed orange in gratitude and it rumbled at them before continuing with its task.</p><p>Using the flashlight to guide them, Zak located a large gap in the side of the cavern and gestured for Doyle to follow behind him. He didn't need to be told twice. Breaking out of the caves and into the open ocean felt like a breath of fresh air, even though Doyle knew that was still a long way off.</p><p>It wasn't until they had left the gorge behind that Doyle remembered to be upset over losing what could have been the biggest payday of his career. He looked back beneath him, into the yawning darkness, then looked up. Zak was about a meter ahead of him, swimming as best he could with his bare hand curled protectively against his chest. Doyle scowled and hurried after him, forcing himself to go faster. Strangely, the thought of all the money he had lost didn't bother him that much.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Phase Five: Profit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just so you know, I formatted this chapter a little differently than the other ones because it's mostly here to function as an epilogue. I hope you all enjoy it!</p>
<p>Wow, this chapter got unintentionally long.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time they got to the boat, Zak's hand felt like it was going to fall off. In hindsight, it had probably been a bad idea to take off his warm, water-proof glove in the middle of a freezing underwater cave. Zak couldn't remember much from his time in the caves. It was all a blur after he started hearing singing and his own power became too much for him to keep under control.</p>
<p>But that was beside the point.</p>
<p>Once he had let Doyle drag him back onto the boat, curling his hand against his chest in some desperate bid for warmth, the first thing Zak said was, "I'm sorry." He hadn't meant to let it slip out. In fact, he felt like his mouth was moving on its own, but once he started Zak couldn't stop. "I totally ruined your mission down there, I should have just held off the Qallupilluit and not tried to touch the ancient, valuable artifacts. And I know I was making things difficult the whole time, too—"</p>
<p>He was promptly quieted when Doyle snickered. <em>Actually </em>laughed, covering his mouth with one hand, as though he found the apology funny for some reason. Zak felt his face flush darkly to the tips of his ears, mortification and anger fighting for a place on his face as he clicked his mouth shut so hard that his jaw ached.</p>
<p>But Doyle didn't mock him like Zak was expecting. Instead, he set a heavy hand on Zak's shoulder and gave an affectionate squeeze. "You don't need to apologize for shit, mini-man," he said in a soft tone that did not suit Doyle's voice at all. "Literally all of this is because I dragged you here against your will. If you think about it, I definitely deserved to lose that payday. Call it karma if it makes you feel any better."</p>
<p>Doyle retracted his hand and laughed again, fingers curled into a fist that he pressed against his mouth. He looked away, shoulders shaking. Zak felt like he was intruding on something personal, but found himself joining in on the muffled, near-silent laughter. It felt like, if he didn't laugh, he might start crying.</p>
<p>"Okay," he said when he calmed down some. Zak wished that he had grabbed something before they'd been forced to leave the cave. Their whole trip had been pointless. "Thanks, though. For trying to keep me alive."</p>
<p>That wiped away the smile on Doyle's face. He looked over at Zak then, eyebrows creased like he couldn't decide between fondness and guilt. But then the smile returned, and if it was a little forced then neither of them mentioned it. "Speaking of," Doyle began, neatly side-stepping a potentially emotional moment, "we should get you into the cabin and get some hot cocoa into your hands. Your fingers look like they're going to fall off."</p>
<p>They didn't, of course. Zak knew what frostbite looked like from pictures and his fingers weren't that far, yet. But he let Doyle shoo him into the cabin of the <em>B-Mar </em>without comment. He wanted to sit down and get out of his wetsuit and sip on some hot cocoa and not think about anything at all. He wanted to go home.</p>
<p>Zak reclaimed the same seat that he had sat in during the ride out to sea. He leaned his head back and had his eyes closed for maybe four seconds before he was asleep.</p>
<hr/>
<p>As tired as he was, Doyle wasn't too keen on sleeping on the boat, so he stripped himself and Zak of their scuba gear uncaringly and hoisted the kid up with one arm (the good arm, without a long gash down the side) before making the trek back to his jet. It wasn't that hard to carry Zak, even though he was just dead weight. He was a sound sleeper, his cheek pressed against Doyle's shoulder and his arms hanging limp at his sides as he let out soft, huffing breaths.</p>
<p>Doyle was uncomfortable with the situation the entire time, but it took him half way back to the jet before he finally figured out why. Realization hit him so sharply that he staggered and found himself freezing in place for a moment. It was the trust. Zak had fallen asleep right in front of Doyle with his Claw still holstered. He was strongly reminded of an animal exposing its neck.</p>
<p>There was no reason for Zak to trust him. Doyle had given him no reason to, but Zak did anyway. <em>Why</em>?</p>
<p>A gust of freezing wind spurred Doyle into continuing to walk, though he was distracted again when Zak shivered and curled further against him for warmth. Doyle couldn't make sense of it. Maybe it was just because children were stupid but, if nothing else, Zak had certainly proved that he wasn't an idiot. He knew that Doyle wasn't a good person, that he had done morally-questionable things, that he had hurt Zak's family before, and in spite of all of that…</p>
<p>In spite of it, he was sleeping nestled in Doyle's arms. What the fuck. Why would Zak think that was a good idea? The only real way to know was by asking him, and Doyle wasn't about to do that. He wouldn't wake Zak up, firstly, and secondly, he wasn't going to admit that the answer was gnawing at him by asking.</p>
<p>It wasn't like Zak was malicious or underhanded enough to be faking it to get inside Doyle's head. And even if he was, that seemed like a poorly-calculated risk, because people who thought that far ahead also tended to be paranoid.</p>
<p>Maybe Doyle was the one being paranoid. He shook the train of thought away and pursued it no further. It had only been one day. Was he that easy, that a child could turn him inside-out with so little effort?</p>
<p>That was the root of the problem. Doyle held no delusions: he wasn't a good person, but there were too many regrets and second-thoughts and sleepless nights plagued by guilt for him to be an entirely <em>bad </em>one. And Lord knew he had tried. Mercilessness just didn't come as easily to Doyle as he wished it would.</p>
<p>He glanced down at Zak and knew, instinctively, that "mercilessness" was one character trait he was never going to wish for again.</p>
<p>Getting into the jet with one hand was a little more difficult, especially since Doyle didn't want to end up dropping Zak on the floor, but he managed. It had two small, identical rooms for sleeping. Doyle entertained the idea of flying back while Zak was asleep, but the thought of the twelve-hour flight waiting for him made him grimace. Auto-pilot wasn't advanced enough yet to do all the work, after all. Every muscle in his body ached and it felt like the bags under Doyle's eyes were trying to drag him to the ground.</p>
<p>He got Zak into bed first, throwing a blanket over him. The glass and plate of half-eaten food were still there. Doyle thought about grabbing something from the mini-fridge to keep the hunger pains away, though ultimately decided not to bother. He <em>did </em>refill the glass with bottled water and leave it for Zak. It would probably be lukewarm whenever he woke up, but that was better than nothing. The Claw was set on the retractable side table next to Zak's head and Doyle shut the door on his way out to grant some semblance of privacy.</p>
<p>When he laid down in the mirrored room across the hall, Doyle was expecting sleep to come easily. Usually, it did after missions. The problem was that Doyle had let himself stop to think about it. The idea normally was just to go in, do his job, and get out. Objectively, Doyle supposed that this one was no more stressful than the usual tasks he took up behind Van Rook's back. Then again, most of the time Doyle didn't have another person's life to look after. Zak made him anxious. That kid was making Doyle fret and worry. It was costing him sleep, too.</p>
<p>That was a sign that Doyle had let this go too far. Normally, this was the part where he wrestled those difficult emotions to the ground and strangled them until they left him alone. He could practically hear Van Rook mocking him for the mother hen routine and clenched his jaw against a familiar swell of frustration.</p>
<p>He knew that having standards as a mercenary was counter-productive. How was he supposed to get anywhere in this career if there were simply lines that he refused to cross? Doyle entertained the idea for a moment. He had seen Zak angry and distrusting, even a little scared in those caves. He closed his eyes and pictured that face with a gun pressed between his eyes. What was the price on something like that? How high would the offer have to be for Doyle to pull the trigger?</p>
<p>He gave up trying to find a realistic answer when the hypothetical dollar amounts he threw at himself just got bigger and more outlandish. Doyle tried to insist that there was an amount, somewhere, but the thought didn't comfort him as much as he thought it would.</p>
<p>In that respect, if the money for killing a child meant nothing to him, then Doyle didn't need it and he didn't need to pull the trigger, either. He hadn't really gone soft — he'd always had this line in the sand, even if he never spoke about it explicitly.</p>
<p>That was one question answered, but it left Doyle with another problem. If he couldn't commit himself to everything that Van Rook was supposed to teach him, then maybe it was time for him to consider a change in career.</p>
<p>Eventually, Doyle did sleep. Fitfully and sporadically, maybe, but he slept nonetheless.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was weirdly difficult to wake up. Zak found himself drifting in and out of sleep, opening his eyes and realizing that his surroundings weren't familiar before turning over and passing out again. He always felt especially exhausted after a burst of energy with his powers. Maybe that thought should have set-off alarms, but Zak was too tired to care much for being worried. As far as he was concerned, if he was being allowed to sleep then the situation couldn't be too bad.</p>
<p>Eventually, some vague notion that he was thirsty prompted Zak to sit up. He barely felt awake, though a good look at his surroundings fixed that. There was a heart-stopping second where he had no idea where he was or what was going on. Then Zak looked over at the half-eaten platter of food next to the bed and it all came rushing back to him.</p>
<p>Instead of relaxing, Zak stiffened. His powers flared up without his permission, eyes flashing hotly as he stared unflinchingly at the closed door. When he didn't hear anything and he couldn't sense any cryptids nearby, he gradually managed to untense his shoulders. The image of the Qallupilluit was stuck just behind his eyes. It felt like Zak was never going to be able to be rid of it.</p>
<p>The food was incredibly tempting, but there was water there, so Zak grabbed it and sipped on it as he lost himself in thought. It didn't feel like they were in the air, so he felt it was safe to assume that they hadn't left yet. Maybe Doyle was sleeping. It didn't seem likely that he knew about the guidelines for flying after deep diving. Zak frowned at the glass of water, swishing its contents against the sides of the glass. He was still in his winter clothes, ridiculous bear-themed winter coat and all. Inside of the jet, Zak was beginning to overheat, but outside would be a different story all together.</p>
<p>Going outside was, by all accounts, probably a horrible idea. Zak had no assurance that Doyle wouldn't leave him and no way to protect himself from any wild animals that might be in the area. Not to mention, temperatures would be around sub-zero if the sun hadn't yet risen.</p>
<p>With that in mind, Zak stood up anyway and grabbed the Claw on his way out. At least Doyle had let him keep it. That was a sign of trust, wasn't it? That had to count for something.</p>
<p>Zak got to the front of the jet and fumbled with a few of the buttons before figuring out how to make the stairs descend. When he finally managed, he stepped out onto the first step and staggered as a gust of frigid air hit him. Zak curled tighter around himself, breath puffing up in front of his face.</p>
<p>He soaked in the scenery for a moment. It was barely dawn, thin wisps of sunlight peeking out from the monochrome scenery. The snow was as permanent as ever but, in the new light, the frost that had gathered over night seemed to sparkle. The wind must have died down while Zak was sleeping, because the footsteps that he and Doyle had left had yet to be covered up. The ruins of the settlement from decades ago stuck up like craggly, rotted teeth. It should have ruined the view, but Zak found something charming about it anyway. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the reminder that there were some places that humans, for all of their stubbornness, weren't meant to be.</p>
<p>Getting out of the jet sounded like a great idea to Zak. He didn't want to be stuck inside, not after the experience in the caves. By the time the sun came up, Zak would be able to see for miles in any direction across the tundra. Nothing was going to be able to sneak up on him.</p>
<p>Clamoring off of the stairs, Zak started walking forward. At least if he went in a straight line, it would be easy for him to follow his footsteps back, or for Doyle to track him down. If he even woke up before Zak got back. He needed time alone to think. Or maybe not to think, but to just enjoy some fresh air.</p>
<p>There was no wind blowing and hardly a cloud in the sky. The air was freezing, but Zak took a deep breath anyway, letting it out slowly. He wasn't very good at describing emotions, but there was a weird heaviness in his chest, like he was wearing a vest made of lead. The thought was put aside, hopefully to go away on its own soon enough.</p>
<p>Funny. It felt like Zak hadn't been able to breathe or properly relax since he first got near those caves.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It took Doyle about ten seconds to realize that the kid was gone, because that was how long it took for him to open his eyes, stand up, and cross the hallway. It wasn't surprising that Zak had decided to fuck off somewhere, but it was stupid and confusing. Where did he think he was going to retreat to? They were in the middle of frozen-nowhere. He wasn't trying to start the jet when Doyle checked the controls, and he wasn't digging around through any of Doyle's storage compartments. There weren't many places to hide on the jet, even for a kid, which meant that he had to be outside.</p>
<p>Doyle told himself that he didn't care what Zak was doing, and that the kid would come back eventually, or Doyle would just end up leaving him. That conviction lasted longer than Doyle thought it would: three seconds. He was still wearing his winter gear, so he sighed in resignation, zipped everything back up, and left the jet.</p>
<p>It was a pristine afternoon. Sort of. The sun was halfway between directly above him and the horizon, and Doyle stared at it for a moment as he tried to remember which direction was west and how the tilt of the Earth so far north would affect how the sun looked depending on the time. Then he gave up and resolved to find Zak and check the time when he got back.</p>
<p>Luckily, finding Zak was the easy part. He'd left an obvious trail of footprints that led away from the jet and toward the old, busted-up buildings. Doyle had explored them a bit when he'd first found this place, but there was nothing interesting to be found. Anything valuable or sentimental had been taken when the settlers left and nature had whittled away the rest, until the husks of homes were all that remained.</p>
<p>When the footprints began doubling back on themselves around the buildings, no doubt from Zak walking back and forth between them and moving things around, Doyle paused to get a good look. He wasn't much of a tracker, but he felt like following the footsteps that didn't have a returning set was a safe bet. It was weird that Zak would walk off in that direction, though. It just led up to the top of a small cluster of hills, and Doyle already knew that there was nothing up there.</p>
<p>Well, nothing worthwhile, anyway.</p>
<p>He followed despite his mental chant of complaints. It was fucking cold outside and Doyle was incredibly displeased that Zak had gone and run off, almost as much as he was angry at himself for following. It wasn't his job to play babysitter but, at this point, he'd resigned himself to keeping Zak alive and unharmed and hauling him back to the jet by the scruff of his jacket, if necessary. Since they were both awake and rested, there was no reason to stick around anymore.</p>
<p>By the time Doyle got to the top of the hill, he couldn't feel his fingers and he was breathing hard. Damn, he really should have brought his jetpack. At least the way back down would be easier. He shook it off. More importantly, now that he had crested the top, spotting Zak was as easy as blinking. Literally. His winter clothes made for the only spot of color amongst all of the white and grey.</p>
<p>It was only once Doyle drew nearer and realized what Zak was doing that his footsteps grew slower. The kid's back was to him as he stood on a small plot of land enclosed by a neat, white wooden fence. The gate had been left hanging open. Doyle sighed and picked up the faster pace from before, making his way over. He knew that Zak could hear his approach, but he didn't turn or even acknowledge Doyle as he came to a stop on Zak's left.</p>
<p>In front of them were two gravestones, with faded lettering carved into two identically-cut pieces of stone. Doyle had seen them before. The left one read "<em>7766 Constable Victor Maissoneuve R.C.M.P. 1899–1926"</em> and the right one said, "<em>9597 Constable William Robert Stephens R.C.M.P. 1902–1927".</em></p>
<p>Zak shifted, rubbing his hands up and down his arms as though trying to warm himself up. "You mentioned that there was a graveyard around here," he offered as an explanation.</p>
<p>Doyle only shrugged, unbothered. "Yeah. Johnson Bay Cemetery, home of two of the northernmost graves in the world."</p>
<p>It was quiet for a moment while Zak processed that, then he asked, "What does R.C.M.P. stand for?"</p>
<p>"Royal Canadian Mountain Police. I told you that the police still come up here sometimes." Doyle gestured to the graves. "Well, this is why. A settlement was never going to work out here, but they still swing by once a year to check on the headstones and make sure everything's in good condition."</p>
<p>That took Zak by surprise and he looked at Doyle for the first time, eyes big. "Why?"</p>
<p>Again, Doyle couldn't do anything but shrug. "I don't know," he said honestly. It didn't seem like such a big deal to him. People died all the time and these two poor guys had been dead for almost a hundred years. No one who worked with the R.C.M.P. today would know these two or feel any sort of personal connection to them.</p>
<p>He was struck by the thought that if he'd known where his parents died that fateful day, he would make the pilgrimage to that spot at least once a year too, regardless of the conditions.</p>
<p>After that, neither of them felt very talkative. Doyle was freezing and the magic that this old, tiny cemetery had over Zak was completely lost on him, but Doyle didn't try to leave. If Zak needed a moment, then Doyle was fine with letting him have it. At the very least, the fresh air was nice and the view was pretty.</p>
<p>"I promised one of the Qallupilluit food in exchange for helping us back there," Zak said suddenly. He was back to staring at the headstones. "I didn't want to lie to it or betray its trust. But now I'm thinking…" He closed his eyes. "Do you think they had anything to do with why the settlement here failed? Maybe these two were some of its victims, or maybe they weren't, but the Qallupilluit have been killing and driving people away for centuries. What's two more?"</p>
<p>Suddenly, Doyle felt distinctly uncomfortable with the conversation. He coughed, clearing his throat. "Let's not worry about that. C'mon, head back with me. We should start that trip home sooner rather than later.</p>
<p>Zak shook his head. "You shouldn't fly for twenty-four hours after deep sea diving. It can cause decompression sickness."</p>
<p>That didn't mean anything to Doyle: he was still freezing his ass off. He rolled his eyes. "Okay, well, at least come inside where it's warm and eat something. You're probably hungry." No response. Doyle thought a minute more, then offered, "I've got a deck of cards. That's at least got to provide more entertainment than standing around here."</p>
<p>It was a pretty weak attempt, but it got Zak to turn to him, the beginnings of a smile tugging on his lips. "Deal," he agreed, and let Doyle lead the way back.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Based on the kind of person that Doyle had shown himself to be, Zak was a little surprised with how quiet things were when they got back to the jet. There wasn't much to do, but they weren't at any risk of starving or kneeling over from dehydration, so Doyle actually did end up fishing out a deck of cards.</p>
<p>Zak wasn't sure what else he was expecting. Most of the games that Doyle knew were casino or bar-based and needed more than two people, so Zak suggested a few different ones that he used to play with his dad to pass the time while waiting in the field. His mom had never been one for card games — the only time that she could sit still was during meditation.</p>
<p>They were three rounds into a game of War and not a word had been said after Zak gave the instructions. It was an entirely luck-based game and he had managed to lose both of the last two rounds. Zak kept sneaking glances at Doyle's face. He wasn't sure how to break the silence, or if he even wanted to. He could tell that Doyle wasn't mad at him, but something was definitely bothering him. He didn't think that he had any right to pry.</p>
<p>Still, the quiet was starting to get to him. Zak's lips thinned as he frowned. In close quarters, silence seemed far more daunting than it had on the hilltop, with two strange bodies beneath his feet and the endless expanse of the sky above him. Somehow, Doyle was making it more intimidating than the Qallupilluit had been. At least Zak didn't have to guess at what they were thinking.</p>
<p>Their third game of War ended with Zak winning, the whole deck in his hands. He took that as a cue and cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on the deck as he shuffled it. "What are you gonna do once we get back?" Zak asked for the sake of starting conversation. That wasn't what he had wanted to ask, but the real question was as unformed in his thoughts as it was on his tongue. Maybe he would stumble upon the right words while they talked, but this was just about getting Doyle to speak to him.</p>
<p>A shrug was his answer. Doyle had his chin propped up on his palm, drumming his fingers against the table as he stared at the wall above Zak's head. "Dunno. I guess it'll be whatever job Van Rook has next. He's probably noticed I'm gone by now, but it doesn't really matter." He flicked a wrist absentmindedly. "I come and go when I want."</p>
<p>Zak's hands paused, fingers caught between cards. He wanted to ask if Doyle resented it: the ability to leave at any time and knowing that no one would care or miss him. He knew that his parents had to be besides themselves by now, trying to find him, and his brothers and sister would be freaking out, too. When they went to new places, Zak couldn't go five steps down the street without his mom dragging him back or his dad keeping a careful watch on him. He never doubted that someone would notice if he went missing, that they would all drop everything to come find him because they loved him. He almost asked if Doyle had <em>ever </em>had that. Did he have any memories of his mom fretting over him or his dad playing with him?</p>
<p>"Doesn't that get lonely?" Zak asked instead, his voice far quieter than he meant for it to be. He resumed shuffling the deck so that he wouldn't have to look at Doyle's face. "It doesn't sound like you enjoy being around Van Rook all that much. Do you even like him?"</p>
<p>Doyle snorted. "Nope," he said without hesitation. "What's there to like? He's a greedy hardass with the subtlety of a runaway truck and the moral backbone of a jellyfish."</p>
<p>The description made Zak smile faintly, but it quickly fell away. He had some vague thought that he should hold his tongue but, before he could decide not to, he opened his mouth to ask, "Why are you trying so hard to become someone that you don't like and don't respect?"</p>
<p>He held his breath as Doyle stiffened, again pausing shuffling the deck. Zak risked a glance up. Doyle didn't look angry, like he'd half-expected. There was a strange expression on his face, mouth twisted but eyes wide open and staring ahead at nothing. It was like something had just clicked into place, a realization that he wasn't happy about.</p>
<p>When Doyle continued not to say anything, Zak hesitantly tried, "Do you want to play a different game? I know a couple others."</p>
<p>His voice seemed to shake Doyle loose and he refocused his eyes on Zak. "Yeah," Doyle said after a long moment. "Yeah, go ahead. Let's… shake things up. Sure."</p>
<p>The question that Zak had been thinking about, the one he hadn't managed to grasp, had been asked and answered. Maybe Doyle was good at the game, but he wasn't happy. It was time to reshuffle and draw a new hand, play by a different set of rules.</p>
<p>Zak smiled again, managing to make it look genuine. "This one is called Speed," he said, dealing the cards out. "Here's how you set it up…"</p>
<hr/>
<p>It didn't take long to get Zak to sleep, which wasn't exactly surprising considering how exhausted he was after what happened and how fucked up their internal clocks were. Doyle figured that the kid would be able to stay asleep during take off since he spent so much time in his family's enormous airship, so he parked himself in the pilot's seat at one in the afternoon and got everything ready while the engines heated up.</p>
<p>It hadn't yet been twenty-four hours since their diving escapade, which Doyle figured Zak was going to give him shit for once he woke up, but he didn't want to hang around in the middle of frozen nowhere with meat-eating sea monsters for longer than he had to. If a blood vessel popped and gave him a stroke while flying then, well, life was just like that sometimes.</p>
<p>Doyle did have to admit, the decompression stops helped. He felt a lot less tired than he normally did after diving and his joints weren't aching. Going against Zak's advice wasn't <em>ideal </em>but fourteen hours was close enough.</p>
<p>He had his hands on the controls when his phone buzzed with an incoming message. Doyle hadn't taken it with him on the boat, obviously, but he was in the habit of keeping his private one on him at all times. It was unlisted and untraceable, a secure number that only people who knew who they were getting in contact with had access to. So even though Doyle was itching to get into the air, he never ignored a message on that phone. It was usually a notice about an incoming payment.</p>
<p>Disappointingly, Doyle pulled out his phone to see Van Rook's number. He checked it anyway, reading idly. It wasn't anything important, just Van Rook letting Doyle know that he was expected back within twenty-four hours for a job that Argost wanted them for. It didn't matter if Doyle was there or not, really — Van Rook would do it without him for a high-paying regular client like Argost.</p>
<p>Speaking of, Doyle needed to let his own client know that the family artifacts had been unrecoverable. He didn't feel bad for her loss, or for the money he wasn't getting, which left Doyle in a weird sort of limbo where he wasn't sure why he'd even embarked upon this job in the first place. He'd cared about the money before, when he spent months planning and researching and putting everything into place. Even the hit that Doyle's reputation was bound to take didn't bother him. It was starting to get annoying. If he didn't care about the reward and he didn't care about being charitable to strangers, what was he gaining from this?</p>
<p>There were footsteps against the metal floor. Doyle reached for his wrist-blaster instinctively and, when Zak came into view, was relieved that he wasn't wearing it. "Hey." He kept an eye on the kid as he shuffled over to the co-pilot's seat and clamored in. Doyle snorted softly. "What are you doing up? I was waiting for you to get some sleep before we took off."</p>
<p>Zak muffled a yawn. His hair was mused and his eyes were barely open, heavy with sleep. That, combined with the fact that he was still wearing the pajamas Doyle had kidnapped him in, made for a weirdly cute picture. Maybe not cute, exactly. Doyle stared at him, puzzled. There was a word for what Zak looked like, he just couldn't place it.</p>
<p>"I know." Zak shifted around until he got comfortable, apparently not caring that the chair didn't recline and wasn't very soft to begin with. "I figured you would. But I always…" He mumbled the rest of his sentence through his yawn, only to backtrack and repeat, "I always wake up when mom and dad are landing or taking off. It's really noticeable."</p>
<p>Doyle huffed on a laugh. "So, what? Now you're just going to hang out in the cockpit with me and take a nap in the world's most uncomfortable chair?"</p>
<p>The grimace on Zak's face said plenty about how comfortable he thought the chair was. "Had to make sure you weren't going to give yourself a stroke trying to take off… before the twenty-four hours of decom… de…" His eyes fell shut as his head lolled on the arm of the chair.</p>
<p>The sight of Zak falling asleep mid-sentence was funny on its own, but the laughter Doyle wanted to let out caught in his throat and he almost choked. His logical thinking caught up a moment later. He knew Zak was exhausted but falling asleep in front of your kidnapper was just… ludicrous. Exactly as stupid as it had been when he'd done it on the boat. The position that they were in forced Zak to more or less stick with Doyle, but being on the plane with him didn't mean that he had to hang around Doyle or speak to him, let alone pass out in front of him.</p>
<p>It was such a stupid display of trust. Doyle shook his head, looking over at Zak again. Honestly… The position didn't even look comfortable.</p>
<p>Before he knew what he was doing, Doyle's hands had left the plane's controls. The last few times he'd picked Zak up, it had been purely for a utilitarian purpose, by the scruff of the neck and throwing the kid over one shoulder. So Doyle hesitated like that, with one hand hovering by Zak's arm and the other near his leg. He'd never carried anyone carefully before. It seemed so ridiculous that he was about to try for some kid he'd known all of two days. Doyle told himself that if he left Zak there to shift around in his sleep, he was going to end up accidentally fucking up the controls, and that flimsy excuse was what finally allowed him to bridge the last bit of space between them.</p>
<p>In theory, Doyle knew how to hold a child. He'd seen it in movies before. He got one hand around Zak's back, letting his head rest against Doyle's shoulder and chest, and the other arm slid underneath his knees to hold him up securely. It was weird to be holding another person like that, Doyle mused even as he started walking. Out of the cabin and to the room he'd selected to be Zak's, all the while he could feel the kid's warmth and steady breaths.</p>
<p>Doyle laid Zak down in bed and stared, wondering what he was supposed to be feeling. What did Zak's parents feel when they saw him asleep? Pride? Love? Devotion? Doyle brushed back some of Zak's white bangs absent-mindedly, but he still couldn't place it.</p>
<p>He got to the doorway before he remembered that he ought to put a blanket over Zak. And it was while Doyle was essentially tucking him in that the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. The word he was looking for: <em>domestic</em>. Zak looked so domestic and familial and childishly innocent that it <em>ached</em>.</p>
<p>Not a sound left Doyle's lips as he quickly retreated from the room. Suddenly, it felt weirdly intimate and personal, like something he wasn't meant to see. Doyle was sure that Zak's parents wouldn't hesitate to kill him if they saw him standing over their sleeping son, and they would be right to do so. He wasn't part of that circle of trust, he wasn't allowed to be privy to what Zak was showing him.</p>
<p>But he did still shut the door behind him, even if it did nothing to block out the roaring engines. And Doyle did attempt to make the take off smooth, not that it stopped Zak from wandering his way back into the cabin once they were in the air and promptly passing out again in the co-pilot's chair.</p>
<p>That time, Doyle left him, a fond smile unintentionally working its way onto his face. Waking up with a sore neck and back ought to teach Zak to stay in bed.</p>
<hr/>
<p>By the time Zak woke up, it was dusk. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared out the window for a while, glad to see a cloudless sky and snow-free scenery. There was still nothing familiar about wherever they were, but they were getting closer. Soon it was going to be hard to see anything with the sun gone and the moon dimly taking its place.</p>
<p>He was really hungry, which made sense because Zak couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. More importantly, he'd been exhausted and freezing since they left the cave and now he was well-rested and warm so Zak wanted to take the moment to doze and enjoy it.</p>
<p>Also, since he was the only one in the cabin (with autopilot presumably engaged and Doyle who-knows-where), Zak let himself stretch out with a wince, groaning as he rubbed the knot in his neck. That, combined with the bruises that he was finally beginning to feel from what happened in the caves, meant that he was going to be sore for a while. Not that he was about to admit to Doyle that sleeping upright hadn't helped at all.</p>
<p>Zak just didn't want to admit that the reason he'd gotten out of bed was because he hadn't wanted to fall asleep alone. It was different at home, with his parents down the hall and Zon outside and Komodo at the foot of his bed and Fisk always lingering. As a result, he had never had to <em>admit </em>that he didn't like sleeping on his own. Especially with the vivid mental image of the Qallupilluit swarming a soon-to-be new kill imprinted on the backs of his eyes.</p>
<p>Eventually, hunger won out over the pleasant haze of not-quite-asleep and not-quite-awake, so Zak clamored out of the cockpit and went looking for the little mini-fridge that Doyle had stocked for the trip. It felt weird to be walking around with his pajamas and bare feet, especially when the metal floor was freezing and clearly not meant for casual sleepwear.</p>
<p>He walked into the main part of the jet, where Doyle had the mini-fridge and closets and a little fold out table that he could set-up, to find Doyle rubbing his arm with a wet piece of cloth. He had taken off the uniform shirt that he always seemed to be wearing, switching it out for a white tank top that gave him better access to his arm. Zak stood in the entryway, head tilted and eyes squinted, trying to figure out what he was looking at. He didn't have to ponder for long, because Doyle glanced up to see him and waved with the hand that was holding the rag. Unconsciously, Zak's eyes widened. It was pink and red with blood.</p>
<p>Seeing the look on his face, Doyle quickly lowered the rag again. "It's not fresh," he said, almost like he was trying to be comforting. "I just accidentally reopened the cut when I was trying to clean it. I figured that I should probably wrap it since it was still looking pretty irritated."</p>
<p>Right. Back in the caves, one of the Qallupilluit had gotten his arm with its claws. Zak found himself drifting closer. "Do you need help wrapping it?" He asked.</p>
<p>There were a lot of better questions that he could have asked, like "<em>Why didn't you take care of it sooner?" </em>or "<em>I know how much it must hurt, why didn't you say anything?" </em>but Zak didn't want to make this confrontational. He knew how to wrap cuts and scrapes and bruises. Sure, most of his practice came from cryptids and small animals, but his parents had thought it was important for Zak to know at least basic first aid.</p>
<p>Doyle made a face, brow furrowing like he was trying to think of a polite way to refuse. His lips thinned, then he shrugged. "Uh, maybe. You might have to hold the bandage in place so it doesn't end up all over the place when I try to wrap it. Can you—" Doyle gestured to the open first aid kit on the table some distance away, "—grab the antibiotic out of there? I forget which one I'm supposed to use."</p>
<p>"Sure." Zak nodded and hurried over, plucking out the right cream after a quick once-over. It seemed like Doyle's first aid kit was a little short on supplies, which wasn't surprising at all. He said nothing on it and handed the container to Doyle.</p>
<p>It was quiet while he worked and Zak got a good look at the wound in the meantime. He recognized claw marks when he saw them and it was obvious to Zak that the wound was a little more severe than Doyle had let on. What had probably happened was that he'd forgotten about it until he moved wrong and accidentally split it open, only then realizing that it hadn't scarred thoroughly. At least Doyle had cleaned it and was applying an antibiotic. There were four neat cuts going down the side of his upper arm, though all but one were fairly shallow. One of the middle ones was noticeably deeper, still dripping blood even as Doyle rubbed the antibiotic in. His face was scrunched up in discomfort as he worked until, finally, Doyle pronounced himself done and wiped his hands off on the damp rag.</p>
<p>"And the bandage is—" Doyle reached for it, but Zak was faster.</p>
<p>"—Here," he finished, nodding toward the chair. "Sit down, I know how to wrap cuts."</p>
<p>That earned him a sceptical snort, but Doyle sighed and sat anyway, holding his arm out for Zak. He made sure to wrap it tightly, because clearly Doyle couldn't be trusted to do so himself. It didn't take long, though, and soon Zak had stepped away and was putting things back so he could close the first aid kit.</p>
<p>"Huh." Doyle flexed his arm, testing the wrapping. He ran a hand down the bandage thoughtfully. "This is pretty good handiwork. Where'd you learn how to do that?"</p>
<p>Zak shrugged, focusing more on organizing the first aid supplied correctly. He stuck his tongue out, eyes narrowed in concentration. "Well, I mostly do first aid for animals. Mom and dad said that they didn't want me to be in a situation where I was alone with an injured, wild animal and didn't know how to take care of it at least somewhat." He held up a container that was mostly empty and set it aside for trash. "I've been doing it more often for my parents recently, though. And my siblings. Like, just last week Zon got sent crashing through a window and Komodo fell the height of an eight story building. On the same day! Dad usually does first aid if it's bad, though."</p>
<p>It was quiet for a long moment. So long that Zak had just assumed the conversation was over with. He was closing the first aid kit when Doyle finally said, "It's a good thing we left when we did. I just got a message from Van Rook about a new job."</p>
<p>He froze. Zak set his hands on the table and very pointedly did not turn around to look at Doyle. Where was this going? It didn't sound like a threat, but then… why else would Doyle bring it up?</p>
<p>When he didn't continue, Zak cleared his throat and asked, "Is it for Argost?" If it was, then it had to be something about the Kur Stone. He had to let his parents know. This was too important, even if Doyle didn't really care one way or the other about people's motives.</p>
<p>"Mhm." Out of the corner of his eye, Zak saw Doyle nod. "Sounds kinda boring, though," he drawled, casual as could be. "He wants us to go to Alkali Lake in Nebraska and go monster hunting." Zak couldn't quiet his sharp intake of breath.</p>
<p>That didn't make any sense. They were still on opposite sides, weren't they? And Doyle still wanted to end up getting paid, didn't he? Unless it was a trick, but it didn't seem like it, because Doyle had no reason to bring up Argost at all. Zak hadn't been asking about him and he wasn't snooping around through Doyle's things. So it must have been an intentional hint.</p>
<p>Doyle was giving them a leg up .A way to get one step ahead of Argost.</p>
<p>Out loud, Zak laughed. "You really chose a bad time to do this mission, then. You're already going diving again for another cryptid."</p>
<p>There was a huff from Doyle. "Yeah. I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?' He joked.</p>
<p>It was quiet again between them. Zak was glad that he had his back to Doyle so that he couldn't see the smile creeping its way onto Zak's face. Maybe he wasn't as bad at making friends as he first thought.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Landing at night wasn't one of Doyle's strong suits, but the autopilot did the hardest parts for him and, besides, Doyle wasn't about to try landing in the middle of the day. He was <em>mostly </em>sure that Zak's parents weren't home, probably out looking for their son, but even if they were, their security system would tip them off to an aircraft landing within their perimeter and Doyle didn't want to still be there whenever they showed up. He could take them, probably, but Doyle would rather avoid a fight while he was still nursing an injured arm and his head was still mixed up and confused.</p>
<p>It was nice to know that Zak was being raised by people who cared about him so deeply, though. Doyle wished that it was more common in the world.</p>
<p>There was a strip a little ways out from the Saturday's house that was probably used for emergency landings or extra space for guests who's planes wouldn't fit into the home's built-in hanger. Doyle didn't know and he didn't really care. But it was conveniently lit up, so he brought the plane down as gently as he could. It wasn't all <em>that </em>gentle, though Zak didn't seem to mind a little bit of jostling.</p>
<p>The engine died down slowly and Doyle sat back in the pilot's seat. Zak was in the co-pilot's chair next to him, staring off at nothing. He was wearing the winter boots that Doyle had gotten for him, in preparation for a short trek through the forest. Doyle counted to ten in his head and then, when Zak still said nothing and made no move to leave, he cleared his throat. "Waiting on something before you go, mini-man?"</p>
<p>Zak jumped, hand going to his lap instinctively. His fingers had barely brushed the Claw when he was lowering his hand again, glancing over at Doyle sheepishly. "Oh, uh, no. Sorry, I was just—" He fumbled for the seat belt and released it, though still continued to sit right where he was. Zak was quiet for another moment. "I was thinking… Do you want to come up to the house with me?"</p>
<p>Doyle blinked. He really didn't want to laugh out loud. That seemed like a rude way to end things after everything they'd done together. So he settled on the much safer response of just asking, "Why?" That was a reasonable question.</p>
<p>There was more fidgeting and uncertainty before Zak eventually answered. "I just think my parents would like to meet you under better circumstances. You could go up without your mask and they wouldn't even know you're Van Rook's apprentice. You could be the cool guy who brought back their missing son, and—" He winced. "I don't know, be allies, I guess?"</p>
<p>Oh. <em>Oh, </em>suddenly things were making a lot of sense. Zak was trying to <em>network</em>.</p>
<p>That time, Doyle didn't bother trying to hide his laugh. He clutched his sides, he was laughing so hard, completely ignoring the angry flush to Zak's face and the kid's ever-tightening grip on the armrests.</p>
<p>When Doyle finally recovered, he blurted out, "Fuck no! Look, I'm sorry if you thought that me not wanting you maimed or dead makes us <em>friends</em>, but I'm not going anywhere near your house or your family in a friendly context. I told you that you don't understand this line of work and I was right. You're a fucking <em>child</em>, Zak. Now get off of my jet and back to your mommy and daddy before I kick you off myself."</p>
<p>Maybe that was uncalled for and unnecessarily harsh. But Zak clearly wasn't going to learn unless Doyle spelled it out for him. One night spent doubting himself wasn't going to make Doyle turn his back on the entire career he'd been building for himself, his reputation and agreements. If he gave Zak any ground to dig his heels into, the kid was only going to push and insist and batter at Doyle's defenses until they slowly (but surely) crumbled. No, it was better to get this over with. If Doyle never saw Zak again, his life would be infinitely easier.</p>
<p>And so would Zak's. No matter how "cool" he thought Doyle was, getting mixed up with a mercenary could only end badly for him and his family. Doyle had too many enemies, too many debts that he'd let pile up.</p>
<p>So he took Zak's extended olive branch and fucking burned it. It would be easier for them both in the long run.</p>
<p>His face red all the way to the tips of his ears, Zak scowled and got to his feet as quickly as he could. "Fine," he snapped, backing up. He was angry and embarrassed, obviously, but also something else. Maybe even… sad? Hurt? Zak looked away before Doyle could decide. "I might be a stupid kid, but at least I'm not a selfish <em>jerk</em>." He turned around and that was that.</p>
<p>Doyle heard Zak's footsteps down the hall, then the door opening and closing as Zak stepped out. He looked off into the distance for far too long before getting a grip and refocusing on the controls in front of him. Still, it took a lot of effort for Doyle to get the plane ready to go again. He knew that he'd made the right choice, so…</p>
<p>...so why did it feel like a mistake?</p>
<hr/>
<p>Walking home alone in the dark felt bittersweet, Zak supposed was the word for it. The fresh air kept him from thinking too much about the cave, so that wasn't what had his thoughts lagging. He'd really thought that he was getting somewhere with Doyle, only for it to turn out like this… It didn't sit right with him. Zak replayed their parting conversation in his head, trying to find something he could have said or done differently.</p>
<p>There had been a lot of different options available to him but, the funny part was, Zak didn't think that it mattered. Doyle had already made up his mind. The finality in his voice had been enough to render Zak speechless for a few seconds there.</p>
<p>So maybe they weren't friends, or even allies. But Doyle had done things for Zak that he hadn't needed to do, and he hadn't taken advantage of that trust to implant himself as some sort of double agent. That meant there was still a chance that he would change his mind.</p>
<p>For a moment, Zak stopped walking as a smile came to his face. And Doyle had given him the next place that he and Van Rook were going to hit. <em>Alkali Lake. </em>If he could get Doyle alone for a few minutes and say the right things — or not say the wrong things — then <em>just </em>maybe, maybe, maybe…</p>
<p>Reinvigorated, Zak walked faster. He wanted to get home and maybe shower before his parents got back. The fact that they weren't already out of the house meant that they were probably looking for him elsewhere with the airship, most likely tracking sightings and rumors about Van Rook. That was for the better — even though Zak missed his family horribly, he didn't want them to see him dirty and unkept. They would be fretting enough as it was.</p>
<p>His house was lit up and made for an easy beacon to follow through the trees. Once Zak found the winding dirt path that led up to the front gates, he started jogging. He wasn't as exhausted as he'd been when he first woke up on Doyle's jet after the caves, but there was heaviness in his bones and he sagged in relief when the security system recognized him and opened the gates.</p>
<p>The grounds were huge and the floor plan was big too, so it took Zak about seven minutes to get in the front door and up to his bedroom. The surroundings were so familiar and comforting that he was tempted to pass out on his bed immediately. Instead, he grabbed a fresh pair of pajamas from his drawer. No sense in getting dressed when he was going right back to bed after his shower.</p>
<p>Zak instinctively went to kick off his shoes and paused. Oh, right. The boots that Doyle had given him. They were dirty after everything, but still in good condition. He hesitated. The smart thing to do was throw them away so that there was no evidence of what had happened, and yet, Zak found himself carrying them over to his closet. They were tucked in the very back and covered with an old shirt that no longer fit him. Satisfied, Zak closed the closet behind him and headed to the bathroom with a change of clothes under one arm.</p>
<p>They would be a souvenir. A memory just for him. And maybe Doyle, one day.</p>
<p>It felt good to get his sweaty clothes off and remove the bandage that Doyle had put on his arm. The injection site was barely even visible, although Doyle was right about the area being tender. Warm water felt like a blessing, long after the cold of the snow and caves had seeped under Zak's skin and made itself a permanent home there. For a while, he forgot that he was supposed to be getting clean and just enjoyed it. His hair was in tangles, but Zak honestly couldn't be bothered with the hair care that mom liked to lecture him about maintaining, so he just scrubbed the dirt off of himself and got out. Eventually. After the hot water refused to come out anymore.</p>
<p>Fresh out of the shower and in clean pajamas, Zak had to remind himself to head for the living room instead of his bedroom. It would be better whenever mom and dad got him if they found him out in the open as soon as possible. But he also didn't want to go stand in the freezing-cold hanger, so to the living room it was.</p>
<p>Zak had barely sat down on the couch when the automatic door slid open with a hiss that made him jump. His reflexes must have been slow with tiredness, because it seemed like Zak had just turned around when his mom's arms were wrapping around him.</p>
<p>"Oh, thank God, Zak," Drew gasped, pulling away as quickly as she'd grabbed him in order to cup his face. "We were on our way back when the proximity alarm— I'm so relieved that you're alright." Her hands were shaking and her lungs were heaving.</p>
<p>"Mom, I'm—" Zak started to assure her that he was completely unharmed when there were more footsteps. He'd guessed that his mom had run off ahead of the rest of the family, and Zak was proven right when the door opened again and he found himself surrounded by relieved cries of his name and warm embraces.</p>
<p>Dad got an arm around Zak and hefted him up, holding him against his chest so that the others had a better angle. Well, except for Komodo, but Zak felt his brother's tail wrap around his ankle and couldn't help but laugh. Zon butted his hand with her bill, until Zak had to settle for petting her with one hand and holding onto Fisk with the other while his mom smoothed his hair back and peppered his face with kisses.</p>
<p>"Guys, seriously, I'm <em>fine</em>," Zak insisted, grinning and biting back a laugh. There was nothing funny about the relief they shared, but it was either laugh or cry and it looked like his parents were doing enough of the second option for all of them.</p>
<p>"What happened?" Doc asked, finally setting Zak down on his feet. He kept a hand on his son's shoulder as though to assure himself that Zak was still really there. "We saw on the security cameras that—"</p>
<p>He was interrupted by Fisk, who was hovering over Zak as if afraid to touch him and speaking so quickly that he was stumbling over his words and Zak couldn't follow any of it. It sounded like an apology, though. "It's okay," he assured them all again, putting his arms around Fisk's waist in an attempt to calm his rambling. And this way, at ground level, Zak's siblings could get a proper group hug. Komodo curled against his back and Zon nudged her bill under his arm with a coo "I'm not hurt, nothing bad happened. It was just—" He hesitated. What was he supposed to say? The truth? Would his parents even believe it?</p>
<p>Zak was saved from figuring that out when Drew cut in. "You can tell us what happened in the morning, Zak. Right now, you look exhausted. We should get you into bed." And even though it went unspoken, it was clear from her tone that neither she nor Doc would be sleeping that night. They were going to be too busy lingering outside his room and working hard on upgrading the security system.</p>
<p>He nodded and let Fisk pick him up, who was apparently insistent upon carrying Zak. "Alright," he agreed with his mom without a fight. "Sleep sounds really amazing right now."</p>
<p>Still, Zak couldn't help but wonder if Doyle had ever had this — the unconditional love of family. Zak smiled and clung onto Fisk tighter. He hoped that, one day, Doyle would let them provide that for him.</p>
<p>Because in the morning, the first thing Zak was doing was getting his parents to go to Alkali Lake. After all, Zak had always had a stubborn streak. This was one situation where "no" wasn't an answer that he could accept.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I could've spent more time on Zak's homecoming, but this fic is supposed to be about him and Doyle. You guys already know how much Zak's family loves each other.</p>
<p>Regardless, I'm really happy with the way that this fic came out and I hope that you all are, too! It was a lot of fun messing around with this character dynamic. If TSS ever gets a reboot/season three, I want more Zak and Doyle episodes.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I also have a Tumblr <strong><a href="https://karkalicious769.tumblr.com/">HERE</a></strong> featuring some other links if you guys want to support my writing!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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